


Continuing Education

by Apetslife



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: First Time, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xander figures out what he wants.  Spike benefits. Written in 2000.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Continuing Education

He'd learned a lot, since he'd started hanging out with Oz. Really hanging  
out, not just encountering him at some random Scooby meeting that Oz  
happened to be a part of. Him and Oz, in the van or in the bandhouse, and  
sometimes Devon was there, and he was learning a lot. Like for instance  
that the little filter at the end of a faucet could be used, in a pinch, for  
a pipe-screen if you happened to be out of them and the bong was broken and  
you were too lazy and stoned and happy to make a run to the headshop.

That E to D to A was a really easy chord progression that sounded good even when  
it was played by him. That a credit card could be used as a guitar pick.  
That cold pizza was the breakfast food of the gods.

That there was a spot between his shoulder blades that, when kissed, made  
him gasp and curl into the touch like a cat. That Oz tasted like sunshine  
and Devon smelled like rain. That there were things he could do *Me! I can  
do that!* to make another man beg to be turned inside out and put back  
together again, spent and sated. That his mouth was good for more than  
sarcasm and babble. That he was beautiful.

He tried to keep all this new, sweet knowledge in his mind as he stared  
across the six inches _*infinite distance*_ at his heart's desire. Oz knew,  
Devon knew, they'd laughed a little at his stuttered confession, and kissed  
him, and sent him away, smiling, curled into each others' arms, and he'd  
almost run back to them. Almost. But he'd taken a deep breath, and squared  
his shoulders _*I can do this*_ and walked through the heavy, sticky heat of a  
Sunnydale evening to his house, and what he knew waited there. And it was,  
he was, and he could feel the tension thrumming through his muscles as he  
eased down the steps into his basement, and saw Spike sitting *lounging  
really, with all that grace and energy sprawled careless* on his couch,  
sipping at blood in a mug, flipping through channels. A sharp glance up at  
his entrance, and no word spoken, and attention back to the little TV. And,  
daring greatly, Xander allowed one finger to trail along a cool pale arm as  
he passed behind.

A heatbeat, less, and he was up against the wall SLAM! And maybe this  
wasn't such a great idea, because chip or no chip Spike looked PISSED and  
was almost snarling up into his eyes. Six inches _*infinite distance*_ from  
his face, and Xander had enough time to think hysterically that Spike really  
WAS shorter than him, as if that made a bit of fucking difference right now.

"What the FUCK are you playin' at?" Ah, there it was. Silk and leather  
voice, growl down below, and gameface. A quick shake made him realize he  
was staring like a complete loon.

"Er..." and all the words were gone, his rehearsed little speech _*Spike, you  
up for a shag? No, that won't do...Spike, I have something to tell  
you...ugh, too girly. Spike, I've been thinking about you a lot  
recently...*_ fled his brain like it had somewhere much better to be, and he  
was left gaping. "Um...not? Not playing?" _*Smooth, Harris. Way to calm  
the growling vampire who has you pinned to the wall.*_

A slight release in the pressure on his shoulders then, and he breathed, and  
Spike's eyes darkened, and for a split second he hoped, and then Spike let  
him go and stalked back to the couch. Leaving Xander against the wall,  
aware for the first time of the cool concrete on his sweating back.

"'m not your werewolf or your little singer, so hands fucking off, right?"  
And there was the gasping thing again. _*Dammit, brain! You've been  
processing speech for, what, sixteen years now? Get on with it!*_

"Er...what? I mean, you KNOW? Knew?"

"Can smell 'em all over you. Have for weeks now. Good on you, pet, but  
sharing's not my thing. As NUMMY a treat as you might be." Sneering now,  
sprawled back on the couch, completely indifferent to Xander, except...

"Spike? Your hands are shaking." _*Thank you, brain. He'll just kill me  
now, and this whole ridiculous situation will end...wait, no, chip.  
Maybe...*_

The vampire scowled down at his hands, which were holding the remote again  
and definitely trembling.

"Are not." He stopped them, punched at a button and stared at the  
television. Teletubbies. Ech.

"Were." Xander finally moved away from the wall, moving into the room,  
towards the couch. _*Hey! I'm prowling! Didn't know I could do that...*_

Spike looked at him, finally, maybe a little wariness there.

"Whelp? What are you doing?" Inching back against the couch as Xander  
moved closer.

Xander found a reasonably credible growl of his own.

"Getting what I want." And smiling, and moving even closer, to stand  
pressing Spike's legs against the couch _*Nowhere else to go. MY vampire*_  
and leaning down, and

Oh. Cool mouth under his own, and the taste...like nothing he'd imagined.  
And the shocked blue eyes staring into his own _*pretty eyes*_ , and hands  
pushing on him _*SHIT!*_ and then resting on his chest, then holding onto his  
shirt, and

Oh. Tongues. Playing just a bit with each other, tasting and touching,  
then pulling away, and there it was, pushing into his mouth, and the hand  
that was on his shoulder curling up to cradle the back of his head, slim  
fingers twisting into his hair, and suddenly he was sprawled across Spike's  
lap and Spike's tongue was just fucking his mouth, and his own frantic hands  
were wrapped in ice-pale hair, scrabbling at buttons, needing to touch  
skin...

And Spike pulled back. Still holding his hair, still inches away, but  
serious now. Staring into his eyes. Intense. Xander felt a little shiver  
run through him _*this is what you want, remember? This is what you've been  
wanting for so long*_ and stared right back.

"This what you're looking for, pet? Speak now or," smirk, "forever hold  
your peace."

"Yeah..." he breathed, and pulled that smirking face back down, and his last  
coherent thought _*tastes so GOOD*_ went screaming off into the night, and he  
just started processing sensation. Cool hands under his shirt, skimming up  
to pull it over his head. Pretty face smiling at his rumpled hair and dazed  
eyes. Soft mouth on his throat _*shiver*_ on his collarbone, licking the  
hollow beneath. Hard thighs under his own, shifting _*THERE*_ to rub their  
lengths together. Straddling Spike's lap now, heavy and boneless, muscles  
moving against his own. Whispers against his skin, telling him of his  
saltysweetbittersmooth taste and his softness and his beauty. _*Spike thinks  
I'm beautiful?*_ The strain in his neck when he threw his head back,  
uncontrolled, as those hands finally found their way into the back of his  
jeans, grabbed and PULLED him forward. Awkward snatch-tug-haul to get the  
vampire out of his own shirt, _*mmmm, skin*_ , then falling forward to lick and  
mouth and suck every inch he could reach. Back to the mouth, then, setting  
up a suck-thrust rhythm that scorched down to his hips, moved them, rocked  
them back and forth in time.

Groans now. His? Spike's? Couldn't tell. Spike was laughing at him,  
though, could see the crinkled eyes and the quirky smile, and he stopped for  
a moment, listened to himself "Jeans off jeans off get 'em off  
getemoffgetemoff" and he smiled too. Naked soon after. Hands everywhere,  
brushing his thigh, cradling his balls, stroking that little strip of skin  
below them, then brushing THERE and _*I'm gonna give myself whiplash soon*_  
and Spike looking so intent, intense again. Fingers in his mouth now. He  
sucked on them, staring into eyes that were almost all pupil, all black,  
still rocking against Spike's cock _*bigger than I thought and not so cold*_  
letting his own hands slide down that rippled stomach _*Devon would KILL for  
these abs*_ and fingers brush, so gently, against the satin-smooth tip.  
Spike sucked in a breath _*habit? I know he doesn't need to 'less he's  
talking or smoking*_ and let it out slowly as Xander's hand came sliding  
around his erection. Slick with sweat and his own pre-come, and surely  
Spike's fingers were wet enough now? The vampire pulled them out of his  
mouth with a 'pop', reached down again, pushed in _*you know I've been doing  
this for weeks, Spike, just get on with it!*_ and found slickness already  
there. Still there.

Froze. Xander froze with him. He could hear the Teletubbies singing in the  
background, hear a child getting called in for dinner somewhere on the  
street. Could feel the heat of the summer air on his back, a trickle of  
sweat down his spine, the coolness of Spike under him, the warmth of Spike's  
cock in his hand. See the anger on those smooth perfect features, there so  
clearly, then shaken off. The fingers moved. Time moved again. IN, now,  
and pushing at that place he loved, and he moaned, and lost the rhythm in  
his fist, hand stuttering now, grabbing too hard, he knew. And Spike  
growled, and batted his hand away. Lifing him up _*so fucking strong! Holy  
shit, I'm fucking a vampire!* _ so he could reach under and guide, and he was  
sinking down, gravity and Spike pulling him now, and he'd never been so  
grateful to Newton _*OK, that didn't even make any sense to ME*_ and then  
Spike was pushing against his hole and again and again and in. Holding him  
still, for just a minute, as he gasped and shuddered and jerked against this  
invasion, pulling on the vampire's shoulders, looking for something, more,  
less, please stop, please don't...

Moving, now, too soon, and he knew it was punishment for that slipperiness,  
but didn't care. He was cradled in the curve of Spike's hips, knees on  
either side pushing against the back of the couch, and Spike was bucking up  
into him, HARD _*fucking a vampire, yes, I know*_ and a hand on his own cock  
now, pulling because he could tell Spike was not going to last long, from  
the growls and moans he was hearing, and neither was Xander, because Spike  
kept hitting his prostate and biting at his shoulder and his chest and his  
lips and it was all just too fucking sexy to be borne for long, and Xander  
could feel it, feel the tension coiling through his thighs and the back of  
his neck, and _*holy shit*_ and _*oh Jesus*_ and he could hear himself wailing  
as he came and clamped down with all the muscles in his body and Spike  
HOWLED and they were frozen again.

Little rocking motions all that was left. He could feel his chest sliding  
just a little against Spike, feel the arms wrapped around his back and a  
hand sliding up to stroke his neck, feel the smooth white hair under his  
cheek where his head had dropped, and Spike's mouth just resting in the  
hollow beneath his throat. Stickiness on his stomach and thighs, and his  
breath still catching under his breastbone, and a long, shuddering sigh.

And that sinful mouth moved, and he could tell that Spike was smiling.

 


	2. Continuing Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander gets gooshy. Spike is not pleased.

There was a trick to watching Spike. You couldn't do it too  
obviously without inviting a smirk or a snarl: no staring allowed.  
And little sideways glances were SO unsatisfying. Xander had it  
figured out, he thought. He knew the trick. Lower the lashes, peek  
over the top of a magazine just enough, and he could watch to his  
heart's content. See the long, elegant neck, the graceful curve of  
cheekbone and jaw, the spiky imperfection of ungelled, white-blond  
hair, the set of strong shoulders and long, solid legs...

He'd called a time-out, after a weekend and then a week and another  
weekend of non-stop touching and petting and praising, murmured  
endearments and scorching sex. The minute he stepped in the door  
from work he was being stripped, then kissed, then fucked to within  
an inch of his life. Werewolves were not mentioned, nor were insane  
vampiresses. Just the two of them, in the hot basement that seemed  
more and more an isolated pocket universe, a place where they could  
just BE.

And Xander wanted to see if maybe they could. No touching for a few hours, no sex talk, just hanging out. Two normal guys.  
Friends, maybe, after so many months of sharing space. He hoped.  
And the third time Xander pushed his hands away, with his best "no I  
MEAN it Spike" face on, the vampire had growled, and rolled off the  
bed, and let him turn it back into a couch. So there they were,  
fully dressed, just hanging out. Xander with his magazine, and  
Spike...

Right now, Spike was sitting on the recliner, elbows on knees,  
peeling an orange, scowling. Simple activity for most, but Spike was  
a careful vampire and hated, HATED when things squirted on him * _Heh.  
Most things,*_ so peeling an orange took him forever. A thumbnail  
sank into the dimpled skin, slowly, carefully peeling back the half-  
moon he'd cut. One long finger slid beneath the surface of the skin,  
easing its way, working back and forth gently, pulling the skin away  
from the flesh beneath. Xander swallowed hard, tore his eyes back to  
the magazine, stared blindly at the picture of...some starlet, he  
couldn't tell who and didn't care, couldn't even see her.

Peeked again. Those fingers were almost petting the orange, now, stroking  
gently just with the tips, and he chanced a look at Spike's face,  
looking for the tease, the smile. Nope. Intent on the orange.  
Small pieces of skin were falling to the floor, as he carefully,  
slowly stripped _*BAD Xander! Don't think of that!*_ no, peeled the  
fruit, he was almost done now, tips of his fingers feeling the soft  
surface, looking for bits of skin he'd left behind. Still staring  
down, showing no signs he knew Xander existed. Finally, done, just  
sitting, holding the naked _*I'm gonna smack you, brain*_ orange.

"So," Xander cleared his suddenly, unexpectedly tight throat, "You  
gonna eat that, or just stare at it all afternoon?"

Flash of white smile, blue eyes.

"Thought I'd feed it to you, when this bloody 'male bonding' shite is  
out of your system and we can get back to shaggin'."

Gulp.

"Spike..."

"Yes, pet?"

"Never mind. I'm putting a movie in. Preferences?"

"Yeah. Home video, me shaggin' you."

"SHIT, Spike! Can't we even attempt to have a conversation here? I  
swear to god, you're worse than Anya ever was." _*Am I just a  
convenient warm body here? Had enough of that to last a lifetime,  
thanks.*_ He could feel his face tensing into an expression it hadn't  
felt in days, that hurt/annoyed/desperate look that he'd hated so  
much, the times he'd seen it in the mirror. Too many times.

"Don't even think of comparing me to that demon bint, Xander." Said  
evenly, but with a hint of teeth, and they were caught now, Xander on  
the couch, Spike on the chair, tension curling into a place it hadn't  
been before. _*Spike please don't fight with me please come touch me  
everything seems to be ok when you're touching me*_ "What exactly do  
you want to TALK about? Your slayerette friends, and what I'm gonna  
do to 'em when this sodding chip comes out? How much I miss my  
Princess? Your job at the fuckin' BURGER joint? My fun-filled days  
spent arsing about the crypt? Your little fuckbuddies and your drug-  
an'-debauchery filled days with them?" More than a hint of teeth,  
now, and Xander could feel himself shrinking back into the couch,  
avoiding, trying to get away..."No, Xan, I really think we'd best  
stick to what we're good at." Settling back into the chair now, and  
looking at the crushed orange in his hand with sudden surprise.

Deep breath, breathe... _*oh shit ohshitohshit*_ "I'm going out."

Blurted, with little grace, but said, and he was up off the couch,  
climbing the stairs, out into the sunlight. Blinking a few times,  
since the curtains had been drawn to prevent a certain vampire  
getting a fatal tan. Stretching out, feeling the sun warm his  
muscles and ease his mind _*it was so DARK in there*_ , walking, feeling  
sore legs _*sore ass, Xander, be honest*_ ease into the unaccustomed  
movement. Wandering aimlessly _*liar liarliarliar*_ through Sunnydale  
streets, hot and still on the Sunday afternoon, till he found himself  
at the door to the bandhouse, sliding through the screechy screen  
door, and into another warm darkness.

\------------------------------  
/Oh, nice one, Spike/ The vampire snorted, disgusted with  
himself. /Scare the whelp away, when you were just trying to get  
under his skin. You've had plenty of decent conversations in the  
past, but you had to come on all Big an' Bad when he mentioned his  
ex.../ He threw the mangled orange into the sink /THAT worked/ and  
flopped down onto the couch. The couch that smelled like Xander.

Like him and Xander.

Like him and Xander and the faintest trace of Other, Others, that he hadn't been able to get rid of with all his  
licking and stroking and fucking, and even the scrubbing he'd given  
the boy in the shower. /THEY've been here/ he could feel his  
gameface flickering on. /Touching what's MINE now./ And suddenly it  
occurred to him where his pet might have run off to, and he bolted  
for the door, only to be flung back by the pain when his hands hit  
the sunlight.

\----------------------------------------------

Xander was...not happy. Happier. Yes. Stoned? Assuredly. And  
there was Devon behind him on the couch, arms curled loosely around  
him, offering him the joint again. Thank you, Devon. Slow nod. Oz  
at their feet, just laying on the floor with the sweetest smile  
Xander had ever seen.

"Thought you weren't coming back, Xander." Oz's voice, somehow  
calmer and more even than usual.

"Yeah, Xander." Rich Devon-voice in his ear. "Thought you were  
gonna go play with your vampire." Oz sniggered a little at the  
thought of Spike being ANYONE's vampire. Xander grinned down at him.

"Did. It was amazing. He got mean, though, so I missed you guys and  
left. Wait. Did that make sense?" Sent his best puppy-dog eyes  
over his shoulder at Devon, who smiled and assured him he made  
perfect sense, and started singing. "White Rabbit."

Devon didn't sound anything like Grace Slick, though. And Oz's laughter kept  
interrupting whenever he sang the bit about Alice being ten feet  
tall. And then Devon was kicking at Oz, and Oz was in hysterics, and  
Xander was on the end of the couch watching them.

"Can't come back really, though." And two heads swiveled to stare at  
him. "Can't, for the sex. You guys don't need me, and I need  
Spike." There was the sadness again. "He doesn't need me either,  
but I need him more. Can...can I come back, just to hang out,  
if...WHEN...I need to?"

"Xander..." and Oz was crawling into his lap, wrapping arms around  
him and holding tight, and Devon had him from the other side, and it  
was so sweet... "Xander, you can always come back here. Always.  
Right Dev?" He felt the nod against his back. "And look," Oz held  
up both hands, "no groping." Xander had to smile at that.

\----------------------------------------------------

The funny thing was, Spike wasn't worried about the demon girl, or  
the witches, or even the slayer, though he'd figured out how long  
THAT crush had gone on. It was that fucking werewolf /Never did like  
that sort/ and his bandmate. Xander had come home for weeks,  
giggling happily, smelling like he'd ROLLED in them, for fuck's  
sake. Happier than he'd ever been with Anyanka, that's for bloody  
sure. /Happy enough that you've fucked this up, Will, despite not  
lettin' the boy out of bed since you first got your hands on 'im?/

All those months of the chair, then finally getting the ropes off,  
listening to the boy and the demon while locked in the bathroom,  
wanking off painfully to the sounds and the smells...and then  
finally, FINALLY the breakup and the kiss and the sex, and yeah,  
Spike knew he was an overpossessive freak, but he'd not expected his  
Xander to go running back at the first sign of trouble. /Moron. Why  
wouldn't he? Great sex, if I'm not mistaken, and they're his  
friends, and you being the biggest arsehole on the planet.../ He  
checked the window. Sun was going down, and he was going Xander-  
hunting.

\------------------------------------------------

OK, home was...THERE. He was enjoying the last few rays of sunlight,  
though, and the lingering high, and NOT looking forward to the angry  
vampire in his basement. Especially not after being gone for hours  
and smelling like pot and _*oh SHIT*_.

Spike could smell them on him. The reaction that first night had NOT been good, when Spike had  
realized others had been where he wanted to go...He knew it, had  
known it, and, just, shit. _*Better talk fast, Harris, if you don't  
want this to be FUBAR. Oh, and look, now you're channeling 'Tango  
and Cash.' Great.* _

He sighed, stretched one last time, and opened the door.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Spike's head snapped around at the first sound of the door opening.  
Xander came through, sheepish face, hands up, looking at him with  
those hungry eyes.../DAMN it/...and he took a deep breath and tasted  
the air.../I knew it. Fuckin' knew it. I am NOT this puppy's  
fucktoy.../ He could feel the growl starting, deep down, could feel  
his fangs pushing through, brows lowering.../Wait, wait, don't scare  
him away.../

\------------------------------------------------

"Spike, wait...wait. Just wait." _*Quit babbling, you idiot*_ "It's  
not what you think. I mean, what you smell. Whatever. Nothing  
happened. I swear." _*Not that you have any reason to get pissy if  
it DID, won't-talk-to-me-vampire.*_

He seemed to have stalled the original charge, though. Spike was just standing there, growling.  
Not leaving, not jumping him. _*That's good, right?*_ "We just...hung  
out." He could feel his eyes doing the puppy-dog thing again, and...WHOA!

Spike, right there in his face. SNIFFING him, full gameface. His  
mouth, ears, neck. Jerking his shirt open. _*This goes WAY beyond  
looking for lipstick on the collar.*_ On his knees now, reaching for  
Xander's belt buckle, yanking it open, brushing aside his protests,  
and burying his face between Xander's legs and INHALING.

"Spike...this is beyond wierd, knock it off! Spike," yanking on the  
hair, "SPIKE, get UP!" And the face that looked up at him was human,  
and relieved, and maybe...a little embarrassed? Nah. Couldn't be.

\--------------------------------------------

Spike could not BELIEVE it. He was on his knees in front of this  
boy, this human, and could smell nothing but himself THERE, and if he  
could manage it he'd be blushing. BLUSHING. One half of the Scourge  
of Europe, and look what he'd come to. Hell. _*Well, best make the  
most of it while you're down here, you wanker.*_

So he leaned forward again, just a taste...

\----------------------------------------------

Oh God Oh God. That long, talented tongue was doing things...he had  
to look, and yes, there it was, stroking along his rapidly hardening  
cock. Flicking, just briefly, at the tip, tasting him, then moving  
to tickle the crease of his thigh. Face nuzzling into him, so-soft  
skin moving against him, and that moaning sound had to be coming from  
him because Spike's mouth was busy...

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

The hands in his hair were NOT pulling, now, and Spike smirked even  
as he closed his lips around the boy's erection. /No one can give  
head like a vampire, boy, and don't you forget it./ Sent his tongue  
chasing around and around the shaft, flicking against his balls,  
stroking up the underside, and YES, Xander's knees buckled against  
his hands. Pushing him back onto the couch now, all that warm soft  
skin right where his hands and his mouth could get at it...pulling  
his mouth away, ignoring the strangled protest from above.

"Mine." He hissed, and looked up for confirmation. /Mine./

And Xander met his eyes, his own clouded with passion, and nodded, running soft  
fingers through his hair. Satisfied, Spike bent again. There, just  
there. Sucking him in to the root, now, feeling the strong thighs  
tense against his hands as Xander gasped again. And his tongue was  
playing again, round and round, and his hands were sliding down and  
in as Xander's hips bucked. One finger, in and crooked, and "Spike,  
pleeease," and the boy was just going to pieces, so pretty like this,  
and Spike sucked hard, and...swallowed. And again.

\---------------------------------------------------

 _*feels so good oh god that finger THERE and uh and "Spike pleeease"  
and OH and don't wanna hurt you don't wanna can't stop moving is this  
heaven? OH! I love it when he does that and there and don't stop  
Spike holy shit is he that feels better than anything ever and my  
head's coming off and _ "Gonna...Spike..." _he did it again and too late  
and I'm on fire now maybe gonna die now*_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, sleepy in the bed, all wrapped up in cool sheets and warm  
human.

"We're still gonna talk," yawn, "Spike. Gotta talk about important  
stuff or it gets under your skin and explodes."

"What pretty pictures you paint, luv. Go to sleep."

"Gonna..."

"Sure, pet. You have any more oranges?"


	3. Extracurricular Activities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander gets pounded. Spike is not pleased.

Despite the slow summer nights, patrolling was still occasionally  
necessary, and Xander couldn't really bring himself to mind. Here he  
was, side-by-side with Willow just like old times, strolling through  
the _*really quite lovely*_ cemetery.

Wills had her newly perfected ball-of-light spell to hand, and he had two stakes in his pocket and  
a bag of microwave popcorn to munch on, and the night was sweet and  
warm and smelled like grass, and Spike was ranging around them,  
ahead, behind, then beside, like some kind of huge dog off its  
leash. Xander smirked at the image. Spike wouldn't like that, no,  
not at all. But he seemed to be enjoying himself tonight, out of the  
basement, rolling his shoulders under the duster, obviously just  
aching to find something to pound into the ground.

Xander just hoped they found a demon or four before Buffy and Riley got to them;  
frustrated, mayhem-deprived vampire was NOT something he was looking  
forward to this evening. _*Hmmm. Or maybe it is. OK, concentrate,  
Xander.*_

"Popcorn, Will?" He offered the bag.

"No thanks. Sucker." She showed him the lollypop, unwrapped it and  
stuck it in her mouth. Smiled at him around it.

"Where's Tara tonight? Off practicing spells alone? Spells with you  
not doin' it for her anymore?" She smacked his arm with a glower,  
and Spike snickered from his place behind them. He carefully ignored  
the vampire. _*Get you for that later.*_

"You're one to talk, Xander. I ran into Devon yesterday, and he said  
you're not, um, practicing with the band any more. No more nooky for  
you, huh? Are...are you ok?"

He'd told Willow about Oz and Devon, heart in his throat, he'd HAD  
to, just to make sure they could still be friends if--when--she found  
out. She'd just given him a sad smile, and a hug, and told him she  
was happy that he was happy, and that Oz was too.

He'd been stunned, then frighteningly relieved, especially when she'd promised not to  
mention his _*really alarmingly easy to adjust to*_ new sex life to any  
of the others. Nope, no angsting over orientation for the Xand-man,  
but he'd rather not have to deal with Buffy's expected wierdness or  
any residual homophobia Riley might have left over from his military  
days right now. _*Though, come to think of it, he and that Graham guy  
had looked awfully cozy on occasion...*_

And he sure as hell wasn't going to tell ANY of them about his new, gonna-rip-your-guts-out-and-  
use-them-for-shoelaces-when-the-chip-comes-out undead lover. Nope.  
Didn't really bear thinking about.

So he smiled back at Willow, and assured her that he was fine, and  
ignored Spike's soft snort of disgust, and stuffed his mouth with  
more popcorn before he could say anything stupid, like, "Spike! I'm  
sleeping with Spike and it's the best sex EVER and he's cute and  
funny and doesn't want anyone else having me and yeah, I know,  
possessive-obsessive and yes I remember Dru, but it gives me this  
warm fuzzy feeling and aren't you HAPPY for me?", which statement  
would probably immediately precede his lover disintegrating into a  
lightball-derived pile of dust.

Didn't bear thinking about. Right.

And Spike understood, too, which was why the cool hand that slid  
under his shirt to stroke the skin in the hollow of his back was  
carefully shielded from Willow, and why it didn't slip down into the  
waistband of his jeans the way it really, really wanted to. And if  
Spike was standing a little too close, well, he WAS there to protect  
them, right?

They moved on after a few minutes, new graves but no vamps, nothing  
to see here folks, please move along.

"Bollocks." Spike's meager supply of patience was running  
out. "There's nothing bloody on tonight. This town is deader'n I  
am. When _I_ was Master, now, those were times. Fledges everywhere,  
demons comin' out of the woodwork-"

"-Angel kicking your ass on a regular basis, yes, we remember,  
Spike." Willow was laughing at him. LAUGHING! At the Big Bad! And  
his best snarl didn't even make her step back. She just patted his  
arm and kept walking. He bared his teeth at the backs of the  
children, growled something about "snotty chits" and "when this chip  
comes out" and "think _I'm_ harmless, will you?" then followed  
along. Again. Well, it was better than getting his arse kicked at  
Willy's, or by the Slayer, or sitting about in a Xander-less  
basement, he supposed. 'ang on a mo, what was that smell?

"Whelp. XANDER."

"Yeah, Spike?"

"Couple new vamps over there. Witch, keep that spell in your pocket,  
right? Wouldn't want to dust the help..." And he ran off, veering  
into the woods at the left of the path. Xander and Willow sighed,  
shrugged and followed.

"He really likes this, doesn't he?"

"Yep. Lives, or, er, doesn't, for it. Makes him easier to have  
around when he's beaten something up, though, I have to say."

"Xander," those pretty green eyes were concerned again, "I'll bet  
Giles would take him back, you know. Oh, he'd do his grumbly English-  
guy thing, and, and probably stomp around and maybe even swear, but  
if Spike's getting to be too big a vampire whiny-butt-"

"Nah, it's ok. We've worked out an arrangement. And  
sometimes...it's nice to have company, you know? Since Anya moved  
away and isn't coming over any more..."

"Oh. OK. But remember, there ARE alternatives."

"Yeah...whoops, there they are."

The two drew back under the cover of the trees. Willow held her hand  
out for the popcorn, and Xander passed it over. _*I'm not even a  
useful ACCESSORY here*_ , but he couldn't bring himself to be upset  
about it.

Spike looked like he was having so much FUN. Three  
fledges, already confused and disoriented, were facing a spinning,  
kicking, snarling nightmare in black leather and peroxide. THUMP,  
one was kicked almost through the wall of the nearest mausoleum, and  
scambled away behind it, only to disintegrate as a stake thrown with  
casual expertise caught it in the back. SNAP, a quick twist from  
those small clever hands and another dusted down under his newly-  
broken neck.

The last one was trickier; big, and looked like he might have fought a  
bit in a previous life _*his ONLY previous life*_  
and the skills had carried over. He aimed a flying punch at Spike's  
head, dodged the roundhouse kick that came at his face, hit Spike in  
the stomach with an audible THUD. "OOooof."

And Xander was suddenly moving, without even thinking about it,  
ignoring Willow's little squeak as he went barreling into the  
clearing and threw himself at the vampire _*holy shit whatamIdoing??*_  
and his question was answered when a careless backhand sent him  
careening into a headstone, which he bounced off of to land  
breathless on the ground. He looked up just in time to see a gamefaced  
Spike stake the vamp handily, and come running to his side, Willow  
close behind.

"Xander, are you-"  
"Bloody hell, boy, what were you-"  
"Don't yell at him, you-"  
"Shut up you bint, need to-"  
"Hey! That's not-"  
"Guys. GUYS. HEY! INJURED PARTY HERE!"

Sudden silence, and a concerned--no, TWO concerned sets of eyes on  
him.

"I'm FINE. Maybe a bruise on my jaw, and a headache, but I'm fine."  
He took Willow's hand and hauled himself to his feet.

"What WERE you thinking, pet? You never just run up to a bloke like  
that in a fight...doesn't that Watcher git teach you lot anything?  
No, probaby too busy with his precious Slayer. Still, you'd think  
he'd give you SOME training. Arsehole. This is soddin'  
unbelievable, sending you children out with a stake an' a prayer..."

Willow didn't think her eyebrows could GET any higher as she watched  
Spike stomp about, getting vampire dust on his Docs, raving. Though  
now that she thought about it, it did seem odd that Buffy got all the  
training, what with her being the strongest and all. And...'pet?'  
Aww, Spike LIKED them.

"Spike...Spike, it's ok. We've made it so far, right? We're doing  
just fine" And was that Xander, trying to calm Spike down?

"No bloody thanks to yourselves. It's been sheer luck, and knackers,  
as far as I can see. 'Specially you, with no magic. This  
bloody chip...I'd show you myself, but the first time I took a swing  
I'd be in migraine hell. We're gonna go see our Rupert, ducks, and  
set this right...What?" He swung around, suddenly aware of two  
amused humans staring at him.

"Um, ok, Spike. But can we finish the patrol first?" Willow, there,  
and that little witch's eyes were too damn sharp...

"NO, you bloody well can NOT. I don't fancy hauling your corpses  
back to the Slayer...she'd take a right pleasure in staking me if  
something happened to her puppies. Right. We're going." And he  
swung round in a swirl of black duster _*delusions of Angel, much,  
Spike?*_ and headed back towards the main street.

"Well, THAT was entertaining. In a wierd, bizzaro, surreal kinda  
way." Willow nodded agreement, eyes wide, as they trailed along  
behind the VERY irritated vampire.

\--------------------------------------------

In the end, Spike had prevailed, citing the vast inconvenience to  
himself during patrols and the probable emotional trauma to the  
slayer when--not if, WHEN--Xander got a little too slow with his  
stake and ended up someone's snack.

Xander remembered the scene with a little smile. His own protests ignored, Spike REALLY into Giles'  
personal space and snapping a bit of fang, Giles wiping his glasses  
furiously as he invited Xander to Buffy's training sessions, his own  
surprise when he'd found himself agreeing. Willow smiling at him  
over the back of the couch. His avoidance of Giles' questioning gaze  
as he and Spike let themselves back out into the night. Spike's  
teasing and shadowboxing on the way home, and now...here they were.

Spike, on the bed, holding Xander's legs between his knees as the boy  
stood in front of him, where he'd been tugged as Spike sat down.  
Strong arms around his waist under his too-large shirt, just holding  
on, and Spike's face tucked into that sweet hollow under his breastbone.

"YOU are a closet snuggler, Spike."

Muffled sounds that approximated "So what if I am, mate?"

Laughing, now, and raising one hand to stroke the cool pale hair _*so  
much softer than I'd thought, when I allowed myself to think about it  
at all.*_ Down, then, to trace a delicate ear, and then the line down  
to the throat and shoulder. Pausing there, one finger stroking  
gently, back and forth, running under the collar of that black t-  
shirt. Spike's little happy growly noise, pulling at him suddenly,  
so that he fell forward as Spike threw himself back on the bed. Body  
to body, _*Full contact sport! And no I'm not giddy at all,*_ and  
shirts off, and his tongue was suddenly pulled into the coolness of  
Spike's mouth.

Tasted like copper and Giles' coffee and Spike, and  
he couldn't get enough. Both hands holding the head below his,  
cradling the fine bones of his face, holding his mouth still so that  
Xander had full play. Sucking Spike's lower lip into his mouth,  
running the tip of his tongue over the full satin smoothness,  
swallowing the groan that came soon after. And Spike's eyes were  
doing that thing where they were almost black, again, and

"Spike,your eyes...that is so fucking hot..." and he was flipped over  
suddenly _*oof*_ and his jeans and boxers were being yanked off his  
ankles and Spike was SHIMMYING out of his, and then he was back, and  
it felt so good...

Skin sliding on acres of hot, slick skin. Spike's hands were  
everywhere, stroking down his sides and cradling his hipbones, thumbs  
touching lightly on the sensitive skin where his thighs met his  
body. Up to the chest, rubbing his nipples as he arched into the  
touch. And Spike's mouth followed where his hands lead, kissing and  
nipping, just running his lips along the line of Xander's ribs,  
letting his tongue trail behind.

Xander was whimpering now, pushing his hips up wantonly, letting his body beg for more. Kissing, again,  
and the long slow slide of Spike's hips as he settled between  
Xander's legs, letting their cocks rub together in a rhythm that was  
maddeningly slow and JUST what Xander was looking for.

"Spike..." whispered into his lover's mouth, and, "Spike" against his  
chest, and "Spiiike" caught in the hollow behind the ear, on that  
long ivory throat. And Spike's hips jerked, thrust a little,  
interrupted that slow insane push, and he started breathing with a  
gasp. Xander could feel his lips quirk up a bit, before his own  
breath was stolen in a long, bruising, hungry, challenging kiss, and  
he must have missed it when Spike reached for the lube, but there he  
was, shifting his weight onto his arms, slick head of his penis  
pressed against Xander's body. And he was staring into blue eyes as  
those hips rocked against him, just a little, just a tease, and he  
let his own eyes fall shut as he arched his back and fanned his  
thighs out, waiting, breath held. And there it was...hard and  
 _*toobigtoobig every time I can't believe he gets it in there*_ pushing  
in slow, easy, and out a bit and PUSH, and filling him completely.  
His legs lifted almost convulsively, one draping over Spike's  
shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer,  
pulling him in. And Spike was making a strange keening sound as he  
thrust in and in and corkscrewed his hips _*oh fucking shit*_ and  
Xander could feel the bones of the vampire's pelvis as they rocked  
against his ass, and feel hardness slamming into his prostate on  
every stroke, and there was a strobe light behind his eyes and  
fireworks in his mind, and Spike reached down and gave his cock one  
hard, stripping pull, and Xander could feel himself falling, falling  
into that sweet mindless place.

And he could hear himself shouting and feel the come spurting onto his chest and belly and it didn't  
matter, didn't, all that mattered was Spike and his hardness, still  
pushing, Spike and his beautiful eyes and his beautiful cock and his  
delicious ass, Spike who was coming now, gameface on and yellow eyes  
still beautiful, and collapsing onto him, right where his arms could  
reach to catch, and hold, and cradle. Rolling them over, Spike still  
inside him.

"Love you." He whispered, feathering kisses over the perfect  
cheekbones, the astonished eyes. "Love you, Spike."


	4. Social Studies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander came clean. Spike doesn't know WHAT to do.

It was kind of like having a hangover and then getting kicked in the  
head, Spike thought. Brain-paralyzing. There he was, his pretty  
lover, his boy, kissing his face and playing with his hair and  
wrapped around him like a second skin, telling him that he LOVED him,  
loved Spike. Great sex aside, this was completely unexpected. He  
didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do, except pull him  
down into another long, slow, sweet kiss, and hold him hard, and say  
nothing at all. And he hoped it would be enough, for now.

***************************************

 _*He's EVIL, Xander. A vampire. You are his FOOD. Could you  
possibly be a bigger idiot? Didn't think so.* _ The warm water in the  
shower hadn't relaxed him enough to keep him from banging his head on  
the wall a few times. So now he had a headache, to add to the  
overwhelming embarrassment that had smacked him in the brain the  
minute he'd struggled out of his drowsy post-sex comfort.

Spike was asleep _*thank God for small favors*_ and he'd slipped out of his arms  
and padded into the bathroom, stared at himself in the mirror,  
winced, and crawled into the shower. It had seemed like a good idea  
at the time. Before the headache.

The worst part was, Spike had been so, well, NICE about it. Hadn't  
laughed at him, or made fun, or walked out. Just smiled a little,  
and kissed him, and rolled over and into sleep. _*Didn't say he loved  
you too, though, did he?*_ _*Shut up.*_

Something about the protectiveness the vampire had shown that night had just jerked the  
words out of him, all unwilling. And he'd waited for the cutting  
remark, the teasing, the dismissal. He'd have known how to deal with  
that. But...nothing. Smile, kiss, sleep. Dammit. Damn vampire,  
always fucking with his expectations.

There, a little anger and the embarrassment was going away. Well, if  
Spike was going to be non-reaction-boy, then Xander could play  
along. He'd just pretend he'd never said a word, and go right on  
fucking his _*beautiful*_ undead roommate _*who you definitely love*_ and  
pretending that the sex was really all there was to it. _*Good luck,  
King of Denial.* _

Water getting cold, now, and the cooler spray was nice, after the  
sticky heat of the night and the humiliation. He soaped his hair,  
and chest, and down...hmmm, there really WERE benefits to being a  
nineteen year old. Hadn't touched himself in a while now; there was  
no need, not when Spike's non-existant refractory period was keeping  
him busy night and day.

There was something familiar and comforting about this, though,   
his own warm hand in the cool water, just playing  
a little, fondling lightly. Feeling really good and stroking right  
THERE. Fingers fisting loosely, pulling a bit, feeling the ache in  
his groin when he tugged. _*Mmmmm. Nice.*_ Didn't have to think  
about anyone else or how they were feeling _*or not*_ , not now, and his  
hand was moving a little faster, a little harder, and the other was  
reaching down to play with his balls, and _*ahhhhhhh.*_ That sweet  
warm gush as he let go. Took a deep breath, sighed, finished washing  
up. The water was really cold now, and he shivered as he stepped out  
of the stall, reached for a towel and

"AAGH! SPIKE! The FUCK?" because there he was, lounging against  
the doorway, eyes a little hard and jeans riding low on his hips.  
Looking very dangerous.

"Not keeping you busy enough, pet? Tsk. Must be losin' my boyish  
good looks."

"Um, what?...Spike, were you watching me?

"Not much else on, is there. Middle of the night an' all. Thought  
I'd pop in for a shower, but you were...occupied."

Xander hadn't known that he could feel a blush as it travelled ALL.  
OVER. his body. But, hey, he had nothing to be ashamed of, right?  
It was perfectly normal. He'd bet SPIKE did it all the time. So he  
shrugged, and grinned.

"Well, sometimes a man just has to make sure he and his hand still  
have a good relationship. Lovers leave, but Mr. Hand will always be  
there..." And that got a smile.

"Come back to bed, you git. An' no more talk of leaving, hear? Dry  
off." He turned and walked back towards the couch.

"EVERYONE leaves eventually, Spike. Even I know that. Fortunately,  
Mr. Hand said 'hi' right back. He's not mad that I've been  
neglecting him." Still teasing, but serious underneath.

A deep sigh from the bed.

"I'm not leavin' you, pet. Not unless you chuck me out, which you  
WILL do eventually. 'Til then you're mine, thought we'd BEEN through  
this. Happy?"

Oh, hey. My insides are melting. That must be what that warm  
sinking joyful feeling in my chest is, there's no other explanation.  
And look, I'm over at the bed and jumping on Spike and I can feel the  
stupid-ass expression on my face, but he's grinning too, and gulp.  
There's the kiss. Oh boy. Oh, wow. Spike, do that again.

************************************

Waking up slowly on a Saturday morning, with a purring vampire _*mine*_  
curled against your back and no jarring wakeup alarm and nowhere  
particular to go had to be one of THE greatest feelings in the  
world. Xander sighed and stretched luxuriously, bringing one arm  
around to cradle the soft blond head that had repositioned itself on  
his shoulder and was softly grumbling about "sleepy, still sleepy."

Yep, the goofy expression was still there, Xander could feel it  
stretching his lips and crinkling his eyes. This was...nice. Just  
nice. He couldn't think of anything nicer, right offhand. So of  
course, someone WOULD choose that minute to knock on his door.

Bolt upright in bed, shake a bewildered Spike into  
alertness, "bathroom, Spike, get in there NOW!" scramble for  
clothes, "Coming! Hang on!" throw a pair of jeans into the bathroom  
 _*his? mine? can't tell no time*_ and up the stairs and

"Oh, hey Oz." Letting his shoulders slump a little with relief. The  
basement DEFINITELY smelled like someone had been having lots of sex  
there recently, and he couldn't imagine trying to explain that to  
Willow, or, God, Buffy... _*'Hey Buff, thanks for stopping by, oh  
that? Had a hooker in last night, yeah, Spike watched, why do you  
ask?'*_ "Come on in."

"Thanks man. Sorry it's so early. Wake you?" Nice familiar little  
Oz-syllables, and Xander smiled as he ushered him into the basement.

"Nah. Just Saturday laziness. Me an' Spike-"

And Spike was NOT in the bathroom, he was right THERE, wearing  
Xander's too-big jeans and staring at Oz yellow-eyed and growling so  
softly that Xander could more feel it against his neck than hear it.  
Oz heard though, werewolf ears pricking just a bit as he stepped  
back, eyes wide, hands raised. Xander scowled and turned, and  
whapped Spike hard on the shoulder, and the growling stopped as Spike  
stared at him, shock clear.

"Spike. Play nice." And the vampire sneered at him a bit, but  
stepped back and perched himself on the edge of the couch and flipped  
on the TV. Still VERY close to Xander, but no more growling, so he'd  
deal.

"Sorry about that, Oz. He's, um, a little possessive-"

"Still in the room here, pet!"

"Sorry. What's up? Want some coffee?"

"Nah." Oz was back to laconic and relaxed, though his eyes were  
still a little wary. "Coffee makes me jumpy."

Snort. "Right. THAT I would pay to see. So is this just a social  
call or do you have a deeper, darker agenda? At, what, 10 am on a  
Saturday? World ending? Need the Xan-man to save the day?"

That slow sweet smile that still _*you love Spike!*_ did funny twisty  
things to his insides, and

"Nope. Having a party for the band tonight, wanted to see if you're  
up. Spike too, if the snarling-and-attacking thing is under  
control." Another growl from the couch. "Should be fun. Gang's all  
coming."

"Hey, really? Sounds great. I'll-" _*waitwaitwait*_ "Spike. You  
wanna go?"

"No."

"C'mon. We've got to get out of this basement sometime. It'll be  
fun. Free beer, Spike..."

"Don't wanna."

"Come on. Don't pout," and Oz was laughing at them, that little  
twitch of his lips that Xander knew so well, "just come. I don't  
want to go without you."

Deep, aggrieved sigh.

"Fine. But if it's as bloody boring as I expect it to be, we're  
GONE."

"Great. Fine. We'll be there, Oz. Need me to pick anything up?"

He was still laughing, though hiding it better now.

"Chips. Got everything else already. Later, Xan, Spike."

And he was away, up the stairs and gone, and Xander was shaking his  
head amusedly as he slowly stripped off his jeans and made his way  
back to the bed. It was, after all, still absurdly early on a  
Saturday, and he had an irritated lover to make up with...

*******************************************

Ten hours, one long nap, three blowjobs, four arguments, two false  
starts, umpteen changes of clothes (Xander not Spike), and two pints  
of blood and one-and-a-half pizzas later, and they'd made it. Spike  
having been sworn to his best behavior ("But I don't even wanna GO to  
the soddin' party!"), which Xander would only believe when seen, and  
maybe not even then. So he paused on the front step, letting the  
music and loud voices wash over them, just for a minute.

"Spike."

"WHAT?"

"Remember...Buffy's gonna be here, and Riley, so, remember..."

"I fuckin' KNOW. I'm the king of self-control, me."

"Right. Sure. Just don't go vamping out on any coeds, 'kay?"

"Right. No vamping, no snogging, no shaggin' in the loo, I GET it,  
Xander." And that was about the end of vampiric patience, if Xander  
was any judge, so he shrugged, dropped a last soft kiss on Spike's  
lips, and pushed open the door.

"HEY! Xander, there you are!" He had an armful of Slayer right  
away, and Riley nodding hello behind her. She dropped her voice to a  
whisper. "I'm SO glad you're here...there's all these...BAND people  
here, and Willow and Tara haven't showed up yet, and-"

"Buff, take a breath! Good to see you too." He gave her a squeeze  
and let go, and she peered over his shoulder, with a sudden frown.

"Spike. What are YOU doing here?"

"Slayer. Pleasure as always. Must say, you're looking a bit fashed,  
pet...had a hard week? You can use makeup to cover that, y'know..."  
He ignored her stuck-out tongue, and wandered off in search of the  
kitchen, to get rid of his bag of chips and find the promised beer.

"Xander, why'd you bring HIM? He's just going to cause trouble...and  
it's going to be tense enough with Oz and Willow here..."

"Oz and Willow should be ok, Buffy. And he SWORE he'd behave, and  
it's not like he had anywhere else to be. Besides. Oz invited  
him." He shrugged, as if he couldn't believe such behavior either.  
 _*Sure, Xander. You're gonna get an Oscar for this one.*_ "Come on.  
Let's find the guys so I can say hi."

There were Oz and Devon, on the giant, battered couch that was really  
the only seating in the big living room. Devon was holding court  
with three or four groupies, and there were people standing around,  
sitting on the floor, playing cards, talking. Or, rather, shouting.  
The music was obscenely loud; Beck, he thought. Oz had won the toss,  
then. Black leather-clad arm snaked around him to offer a can of  
beer, and Xander smiled his thanks at Spike.

"C'mon, Spike. I'll introduce you around." Spike rolled his eyes,  
but followed docilely enough. Devon stood up as they came closer,  
welcoming smile changing to interested assessment as he saw that  
Xander had company. Oz just sat back and watched, as if fascinated.  
 _*Oz, you little bastard, come help me here!*_ No joy.

"Hi, Devon. You've met Buffy, right? And this is her boyfriend,  
Riley." Even SHE couldn't resist Devon's superstar smile, and almost  
simpered as she shook hands with him.

"Long time ago. Glad you could make it. Hey man, good to meet  
you." Even Riley looked impressed.

Deep breath.

"Dev, this is Spike. Spike, Devon."

Oh boy. He stepped back, just a bit. Just to get some room. What  
he got was a wide-angle view.

Devon, still smiling a little, looking Spike up and down. He looked  
really good tonight, in full-on rock star mode. Perfect golden skin,  
tight red leather pants, white shirt open down the front, just a hint  
of glitter over those heavy-lidded green eyes. Hair spiky but still  
soft, even white teeth just visible through the perfect lips.

And Spike, looking right back, one dark, scarred eyebrow raised just  
faintly. Indecent black jeans and badass black boots, red silk shirt  
doing nothing to hide the lean lines of his body. Sky-blue eyes, ice-  
white hair, cheekbones like cut glass. Coiled tension that  
screamed 'PREDATOR!' to anyone with the wit to see it. A good four  
inches shorter than Devon, but it didn't matter, didn't matter at  
all. Holy shit, they were so beautiful....

Xander chanced a glance at Oz, who was practically drooling on his  
orange Dingoes t-shirt. Then at Buffy, who was screaming something  
into Riley's ear and hadn't noticed a thing. Funny, he'd forgetten  
about the music.

Devon finally broke the impasse, reaching out for a handshake,  
smiling a real smile, the blinding one. Spike grinned back and  
shook, and shouted a question over the music. Xander let out the  
breath he hadn't known he was holding, and flopped down on the couch  
next to Oz, unceremoniously dumping a drunken blonde onto the floor  
and ignoring her shrieks of protest.

"Shit, Oz."

"Yeah."

"Well, you can't say we don't have taste."

"Yeah."

"Help me out here. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed. I mean, I  
thought Spike might eat him."

"Can't. Chip."

"I thought he might try anyway. Look at 'em. What is Spike SAYING  
to him?"

"Dunno. I can barely hear you, and you're right here."

"Well, if you quit ogling them you might be able to tell."

"Right, Xander. Like YOU'RE so busy looking elsewhere. Anyway, I'm  
pretty sure Spike was asking Dev where he got his pants."

"OK, getting a severe ugly-duckling feeling here. Let's bail on the  
rock star and the supermodel and go get more beer."

"Right. But you're not a duck of any sort, Xander."

"Right."

And the kitchen had a breeze and was a little quieter, and actual  
unoccupied chairs around the fold-out table (though they had to be  
cleared of empty beer cans). Buffy came in and begged Xander to  
dance at one point, but his horrified look at her sent her laughing  
out again. Spike wandered through in pursuit of more beer, in the  
middle of an argument with Riley about something gun-related, and  
snuck a quick grope while pretending to search the floor for a bottle  
opener. Xander hoped no one noticed him blushing. And Willow and  
Tara finally made an appearance, and came to the kitchen under  
Devon's watchful glare, and it was awkward but not too bad. More  
beer. And the eternal call of nature...

Oz had fallen into some kind of fugue state, just moving his head to  
the music, but looked up when Xander pushed away from the table.

"Hey, use the upstairs one. I think the one down here is pretty  
gnarly by now. No, wait, I'll come up too, I think we locked it."

They wandered through the mess in the living room towards the  
stairs. The party was still going strong, people dancing, two or  
three couples making out in corners _*wish _I_ was making out in a  
corner* _ and the bassist _*Rick?*_ was standing on the coffee table  
singing along to whatever song this was. The line at the keg had  
gotten longer. The line for the bathroom was out of control. _*Thank  
you, Oz.*_ He'd gotten halfway up the stairs before he heard the  
voice in his ear.

"An' just WHERE do you think you're going?" Oh, great, Possessive  
Vamp was back. He sighed.

"Bathroom, Spike. Something we humans have to take care of every  
once in a while."

"With HIM? You're not a chit, you don't need company in the loo."

"It's LOCKED, Spike. Come along, if it bugs you so much."

"Thanks, luv, don't mind if I do." Leering. No one could leer like  
Spike.

He got to use the bathroom alone after all, since Oz had ducked into  
his bedroom, and Spike had seen a Sex Pistols poster on the wall and  
had wandered in after him.

Xander paused at the mirror after washing his hands. He wasn't  
insecure, he WASN'T, but he hadn't been lying about the ugly duckling  
feeling. Oz was small, compact, graceful, deep. Quirky, special  
beauty, and that smile. Spike was...Spike. And there was a REASON  
Devon hadn't (as far as he could tell) stopped having sex since he'd  
hit puberty.

The face in the mirror stared back. Brown eyes, dark  
hair, a little long now and curling over his forehead. Nice  
shoulders. Not a bad face, but...average. He shook himself, locked  
the bathroom behind him and crossed the hall to Oz's room.

Devon had followed them up, and was sitting crosslegged on Oz's bed,  
concentrating hard on rolling a joint. Spike was sprawled in the  
ancient armchair, cigarette dangling from his fingers, flipping idly  
through a CD folder. Oz had put some music in _*Souxie? For Spike,  
how nice*_ and was almost-dancing, just moving his hips, head tipped  
back against the wall, lit by the bedside lamp and the streetlight  
from the window. Xander smiled and shut the door, turning the lock,  
and dropped to the floor by Spike's feet. Felt a hand sifting  
through his hair, petting him idly, and sighed.

"Oz?" Devon had finished the joint, and lit it, the smoke curling  
around his face making him look like a devil. _*Incubus.*_ Handed it  
off. Oz inhaled deeply, letting it out on a sigh.

"Spike? You philosophically or morally opposed?"

The vampire looked up, snorted.

"Ducks, I was at WOODSTOCK. 'Course, we were mostly eating the  
hippies, not smoking with 'em, but end result was the same."

"Right. Eating the hippies. TMI, Spike." Xander took the joint as  
Devon laughed, let the warm smoke curl into his lungs. Mmm. Felt  
the last bit of tension that the beer hadn't reached slide out of  
him. "Does this stuff even work on you? Directly, I mean."

"Dunno. Give it here, we'll have a go."

"Ooh. Stoned vampire. THIS should be interesting." Xander let his  
head fall back against Spike's knee. Smiling again. Oz smiling too,  
and Devon...Dev was stretching. Wow.

"Can see why you liked 'em, pet. They're PRETTY." Xander could  
almost hear Spike staring at dancing Oz and lounging Devon. He  
chuckled.

"Yeah. Pretty. You're prettier, though." The fingers tugged gently  
in his hair. Thanks given and received.

"HEY!" from the bed.

"How DID you lot end up in the sack? One day you're shaggin' that  
psychotic ex-demon bird, next I know you're goin' about all googly-  
eyed from the love that dare not speak its name. Never thought you'd  
be one to stray from the straight and narrow, pet."

"And aren't YOU lucky I did. No, I don't know, Spike. You're bad  
enough as it is. Getting a rundown of Xander's Great Sexual  
Adventures might not be good. I don't want your chip going off if  
you try to bite them. I'm in no state to carry you home, y'know."  
His voice was slow, dreamy, even in his own ears.

"I only bite you, you know that. C'mon. Tell Daddy Spike all about  
it. It's a nummy story, I'll bet..." And he DID seem more relaxed,  
whether it was the beer or the weed or the late hour, Xander couldn't  
hazard a guess. And Oz had moved to the bed and was leaning against  
the wall and nodding and smiling, and Devon was still sprawled but  
paying attention...

"Yeah, Xander. Tell tell. It'll make a lovely bedtime story..."  
Dev's grin was wicked. "...at least if you tell it like _I_ remember  
it..."

"Fine. But no interruptions from the peanut gallery, and not a word  
out of you, Fangless."

*************************************

Xander was having a very. bad. week. Two cracked ribs from a Grothka  
demon on Monday. In bed all day Tuesday, with no food in the  
apartment and he was NOT going upstairs to ask for some, Spike gone  
off somewhere so no company, either. Fired on Wednesday for missing  
work Tuesday. Thursday the Announcement from Anya, she was leaving  
town indefinitely so that she could 'find herself.'

She'd been watching those damn talk shows again, and he was dumped. He'd  
surprised himself by not caring very much, but Spike laughing at him  
had hurt a little.

Friday out looking for a new humiliating  
underpaying grunt job, finally getting hired at a burger place that,

ironically, had fired him a few months before. All new management,  
though, so who was to know? And he already knew where everything  
was. Saturday worked open to close, and yes, he now remembered why  
he'd hated this job so much.

So when Oz invited him back to the  
house after the Dingoes gig at the Bronze Saturday night (the gang  
had been trying to enliven his post-Anya life), he shrugged and went  
along. Anything for a distraction.

And after all the equipment had been unloaded and dumped in a tangled  
but careful heap on the living room floor, he'd been surprised to  
find himself seated on the couch, beer in hand, telling Oz and Devon  
all about it. And laughing, because Oz made small ironic comments,  
and Devon did a mean impression of the staff at his new job (he ate  
there regularly), and they were both so...comfortable to be with.

He hadn't spent much time with them, since Oz had come back, werewolf  
firmly under control, and said his quiet 'hellos' to the old group.  
Couldn't say why, now. He found himself staring at the way Oz was  
leaned up against Dev's shoulder, the way Devon's hand was tangled in  
one of Oz's necklaces, fingers playing with the pendant. He'd  
noticed them before, sure he had...ever since Larry ( _*sorry, Lar*_ )  
he'd realized that there was something about him that liked the look  
of other men. He hadn't fought it, really. Just never really had  
the chance to do anything about it.

And these two were really pretty open about stuff, little touches here and there, a smile, the way Oz  
watched Devon sing. The way the other bandmembers had smirked as  
they'd left for some party after unloading.

So he was looking, and liking what he saw. And when Devon leaned in  
for a kiss before going upstairs for something and Oz's eyes  
fluttered shut...well.

"Does it bother you, Xander?" Oh, someone was expecting him to  
SPEAK, now?

"Um, no. Not bothered. Not at all. Um." Hoping his flush wasn't a  
dead giveaway. He rather thought it was, though, when Oz chuckled.  
And Dev was back with a small glass pipe _*oh shit, is that a crack  
pipe? Oz, no, man,*_ but he was pretty sure crack was white, not  
green. And when he inhaled, and choked and coughed like he was going  
to lose a lung, Devon patted him on the back, and Oz offered water,  
and he was suddenly feeling REALLY good. Peaceful.

And funny. Especially since they were laughing at everything he said. Like, "I  
read somewhere that running through the rain doesn't actually keep  
you any dryer than walking. The drops hit you horizontally, more,  
that way, so your front gets wet too. Instead of just your head.  
It's better if your head's the only wet thing. Wait, what was I  
talking about?"

Fucking hysterical, apparently, and if he couldn't  
see the humor, the laughter was contagious. His cheeks were hurting  
from his perma-smile.

Somehow they'd moved around so that Oz was in the middle, lying  
boneless with his head on Xander's shoulder. Devon had long, long  
legs draped over Oz's lap, and was resting back against the couch's  
arm. Xander didn't think Oz would mind if he...just...hugged, a  
little. He shifted so that his arm was oh so casually draped over  
Oz's. Just for a minute.

Oz just looked so cute in the cutoff jeans  
and his grey t-shirt and purple fingernails  and the spiky  
hair, green this week. And Oz didn't seem to mind at all, pushing  
back into Xander with a little wiggle that was, just, damn. Devon  
wasn't laughing any more, was watching them through half-lidded eyes,  
mouth a little open. Pushed Oz with his feet, lightly, rocking him  
against Xander's side, and Xander's jeans were suddenly far, far too  
tight.

He swallowed, painfully.

Oz reached up, ran a hand down his oh so casual arm, fingers tracing the  
line of bone and muscle, down to his hand to encircle his wrist,  
tug. And Xander was falling down over Oz's shoulder, giving in to  
that gentle, insistent pull, landing with his head and shoulders in  
Oz's lap, and there were fingers on his mouth, and he knew his eyes  
were dazed.

"Xander..." whispered now, no laughter, none at all. "Xander, is  
this ok?" And a mute nod was the best he could do, but it seemed to  
be enough. And Oz was kissing him, then, and it had to have hurt his  
neck to bend so far, but he didn't care. Because Oz tasted like he  
imagined sunlight would, light and sweet and hot, and there was a  
small tongue counting his teeth now and tracing the ticklish spot on  
the roof of his mouth, and his hands had moved up all on their own to  
tangle in wiry green hair, pulling him down, pulling him deeper. Oz seemed   
to like that too, because he made a little moaning sound,  
and pushed his hips into Xander's shoulder, and Xander had NO doubt  
now that Oz was liking it. Just as much as Xander was.

There were hands at his waist, too, undoing his beltbuckle and  
pulling down the zipper, pulling his jeans down, and the relief from  
the pressure made him gasp. But Oz was still rocking against him,  
one hand at his throat and the other in his hair, so...ah. Devon.

Strong, hot hands at the tops of his thighs, stroking gently, holding  
him down as his hips bucked up uncontrollably. Sliding up under the  
legs of his boxers to hold his hips, fingers moving in towards "Ahhhhhh...Oh god,  
please..." and Oz was smiling into his mouth, and moving out from  
under him, leaving him flat on his back on the couch with Devon  
between his legs _*naked Devon and sweet Jesus have I ever seen  
anything more beautiful?*_ still just running little featherlight  
touches down his cock, torturing him.

Oz was stripping fast, and he couldn't help it, he had to see if that white skin was as soft as it  
looked. One hand reached up, stroked along Oz's flank, fingers  
caught in his bellybutton briefly, then made little circles on his  
abdomen. Nice. Yes. As soft as it looked. And Oz's cock...hard  
and curved and dripping a little as he stared at Xander, at Devon,  
and licked his lips. _*OK, now everyone's naked except me*_ but not  
for long.

"Dev, get that end, I'll take care of things up here." Was that Oz's  
longest sentence of the night? Might be. But he was pulling  
Xander's shirt off, and that was of the good, and those damn boxers  
were finally OFF, and Devon was sliding up him like a snake, putting  
all his long length to good use, and making sure every bit of him  
rubbed between Xander's legs. Hair, then _*oh SHIT*_ mouth, just a  
touch, and neck and chest and waist and Devon was here for a kiss.

Harder than Oz's, and hungrier, and demanding, and somewhere in his  
muddled brain Xander knew there was a word for what Devon was. _*Oh  
yeah. Top.*_ There was a hard body and miles of soft golden skin  
rubbing against him, though, and higher brain functions pretty much  
ended at that point. Devon moving, and part of him cried out at the  
loss of that full body contact, but Oz was between his legs, cupping  
him, BREATHING on him, and he was almost sobbing now, he was so  
hard.

Devon was pulling on his shoulders a little, moving him around so he  
was half-sitting, and crouched beside him. And...there was a cock,  
right there in his face, big, and his mouth was suddenly wetter than  
it had been. He licked his lips, heard a moan from above, an echo  
from below, and

"Just taste him, Xander. You'll like it." Salty slickness against  
his lips, pushing just a little, and his own tongue reached out and  
swiped the tip. Heard the breath sucked in, felt Devon's legs  
tremble, and HE had done that, and suddenly he couldn't get enough.  
Moved his head forward, sucked Devon in, and _*oh god*_ there was a hot  
mouth on him now too, licking and sucking and a light scrape of teeth  
there, and he lost any ideas about what to do and just moved. Moved  
his head in the same rhythm that Oz was using, tried to keep his hips  
from jerking too hard, then felt a finger touching him, down below  
his balls, further down, _*nononono not supposed to touch there*_ and  
slide in, slippery, and he made a strange broken sound and lost his  
mind. Just heat, heat in his mouth and around his cock and in his  
ass, and he couldn't recognize his own voice as he screamed around  
Devon's cock as he came.

Devon holding his head still then, whispering sweet things to him, pushing in and in and there was too  
much to swallow, but he tried, he really did. Tasted like nothing,  
smelled like rain. Devon kissing Oz over his body, "Shit, Oz, he  
tastes GOOD..." jerking Oz those few last strokes until he shuddered  
and spurted and hit Xander in the belly and he'd never seen anything  
quite so sexy. And laying still while they cleaned him up and kissed  
him, because his bones had gotten lost somewhere, and when he finally  
got the strength to dress and stumble home, two touseled heads had  
popped up over the arm of the couch, and demanded that he come back  
tomorrow. And he'd smiled the whole way home.

*******************************************

"And THAT was Oz and Devon and Xander's first-eep!"

Hard hands grabbed him beneath his arms and hauled him up and back,  
into the lap of Spike, who had apparently liked the story. A lot.  
Because one hand wrenched his head back as Spike dove into his mouth,  
trying to swallow him whole, while the other pulled at Xander's hip,  
back and back and back against Spike's rock-hard cock, straining  
jeans, and he knew that little shudder that was going through the  
body below him, and that strange high moan, and surely not now, not  
here, not with Oz and Devon right THERE, but Spike bucked up one more  
time and came. Let go of Xander's head, his mouth, with a little  
sigh, slipping his tongue out of his mouth with a last stroke.  
Looked up at Xander, and Xander knew he was pink and trembling a  
little and his lips were swollen, and smiled.

Xander glanced over at the bed, feeling his flush intensify, but Oz  
was cradled against Devon now, and they were rocking together,  
staring at him with the hungriest, hottest eyes he'd ever seen.  
Gulp.

"Right, pet. Home, now, so we can get your end away without the  
Voyeur Twins here getting more of an eyeful." A quick, cheerful push  
and Xander was tumbled to the floor again, still a little breathless,  
but glaring now.

"Up, Xander. Home. Lovely party, boys. MUCH more fun than I'd been  
expecting, really. Xander, have you gone deaf? Get UP."

And Spike was strolling for the door like nothing had happened,  
grabbing his duster with a sweep of his arm, lighting a cigarrette,  
gathering Xander up with the quirk of an eyebrow, sending one last  
leer at the bodies twining on the bed, and they were gone.


	5. Fire Drill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xander plays with fire. Spike is not pleased.

"Spike?"

"Hmmm?"

"Could you move your arm just a little to the...uuugh. Yeah, that's   
better."

Silence. Dark basement. Breathing.

"Pet?"

"Yeah, Spike?"

"Mind tellin' me why you've got me wrapped up like a pressie under   
the tree here? Not that I mind; don't need to breathe, an' all.   
Could be a fire hazard, though."

"Fire? Spike, were you trying to cook again?"

"Nope, so quit your thrashing. Makin' my ribs hurt. An' answer the   
question."

Silence. Basement still dark. Contemplative breathing.

"I don't know. I guess...I guess I don't want you to go out tonight."

"Luv, I go out EVERY night. Every night we're not patrolling, that   
is. Have to keep my hand in, y'know."

"I know. But...I worry. 'Specially when I know you're stopping off   
at Willy's for blood."

Snort. "That lot. Never mind them, Xander, I've got nothing to fear   
from THAT rabble."

"But you DO, Spike. I remember when you-"

"No more, pet. I'll be fine. An' I AM going out, so you squeezin'   
what's left of my life out of my body isn't helping any."

Silence. Basement black as the inside of a shoebox. Breathing   
sounding a little miserable, now.

"Come on, Xan. You know it's what I do."

Silence.

"Xander."

Silence. Release, turn and roll.

"Bleedin' hell, Xander, get back over here."

Continued silence, heavy now.

"That pout won't work on me, pet. Have you SEEN Drusilla in a snit?   
And SHE learned from Angelus, and I spent a century with the pair   
of 'em. You don't have a prayer."

Nothing.

"Fine then." Slide out of bed, yank of jeans and shirt and duster,   
and striding for the door, sure-footed in the dark. "Fuckin'   
humans." Door slam.

******************************

The shit of it was, Spike thought hysterically as he struggled   
against the hold of a fireman twice his size, that he'd been right.   
Dead as tombs in Sunnyhell recently, no pun intended, and he'd roamed   
around for hours without finding a single damn THING to pound.   
Stopped in at Willy's /had to prove the whelp wrong, DIDN'T you/, and   
had a drink or four, and here he was home a mere hour before dawn,   
and Xander...

/Please, pet, please be all right, they won't tell me where you are,   
they won't tell me if you got out-/ Though his anguished howl and   
abruptly arrested lunge for the house when he'd seen the flames   
licking from the first floor windows as he'd come 'round the corner   
might have had something to do with that. Smoke billowing out from   
the roof, flames everywhere, the stuff of nightmares... /Think I'm   
unbalanced, they do, and can't blame them./ He kicked out at the   
fireman again, twisted out of his duster, got grabbed by the arm.   
Was aware that he couldn't think, not at all. 

"STOP that, you!" The voice finally penetrated. "There's no one   
left in the house, we've been through it already."

"Basement..." his voice came out almost on a sob, and he felt a brief   
twinge of self-disgust. "Boy...sleeps in the basement..." Pulled at   
his arm again, never more furious that he couldn't just wrench free   
of this...HUMAN.

"We've GOT him. He's goin' to the hospital now. Ambulance left ten   
minutes ago."

Spike froze.

"Is he...is he...."

"He's all right. A few burns on his hands and arms, some smoke   
inhalation. Tried to pull his mother out of the house, SHE was too   
fuckin' drunk to move. Got her out ok, though, and the boy'll be   
fine."

Spike became aware that the fireman was looking at him with more   
sympathy, now, on that broad /peasant/ face. Shook off the hand with   
a sneer and straightened his jacket. /Right, Spike. You're not   
foolin' anyone here./

"Sunnydale General?"

"Yeah. Should be gettin' there now."

He nodded, turned and walked a few paces, before just giving up and   
SPRINTING for the DeSoto.

*****************************************

/How the HELL do the Slayer and co. find out about things so fast?/   
There they were, as he pushed through the swinging doors of the ER at   
a dead stalk. The little witch, looking frantic and mussed, still in   
her nightshirt with a coat thrown over. Bunny slippers. Rupert,   
rumpled but collected, doin' his father figure bit over with the   
nurse at the desk. /Must be on his next-of-kin list, or something./   
And the slayer, decked out in leather and a TRULY hideous pink...tank-  
top...thing, with ruffles down the front, as fresh as a fuckin'   
daisy. He headed right for them, never more grateful for the years   
of experience keeping his face impassive.

"SPIKE. Were you there? What HAPPENED?" Willow /Bloody hell, she's   
not going to HUG me?/ visibly restrained herself from throwing   
herself at him as she caught sight of him. He shrugged, stood   
shifting uncomfortably under Buffy's glare.

"Dunno. I was out, lookin' for a spot of the old ultra-violence,"   
gag sound from Buffy, "WHAT? An' I come home to firetrucks and   
related insanity."

"So why are you HERE, Spike? Shouldn't you be looking for a nice   
crypt somewhere?" Buffy's glare seemed to have grown teeth, and   
Spike hoped his shrug was convincingly careless.

"My kit's in that basement, innit. Wanted to see if maybe the whelp   
had saved the telly." 

"Spike..." But Giles cut off her warning growl as he walked back   
over to them, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his finger and   
thumb.

"All right, he's been admitted and that's all they'll tell me.   
Something about smoke inhalation, but since we're not family that's   
the extent of what they'll say. Spike, do you have ANY idea what   
went on? And where ARE his parents?"

"Not a clue, mate. Dad's most likely in a gutter somewhere. Mum's   
here, as far as I know. Probably started the blaze herself, drunken   
bint. Xander got a bit crisped pullin' her out of the house, but the   
fireman bloke said he'd be all right." Willow let out a relieved   
sigh and sank down into one of those /soddin' ugly and uncomfortable,   
and don't you just *know* you're gonna be gettin' better acquainted   
with them soon?/ grey waiting-room chairs. Buffy sat beside her, an   
arm around her shoulders, slumping visibly. Spike just stood, and   
tried not to twitch when the Watcher fixed those eyes on HIM.

"Why ARE you here, Spike? It's just minutes to dawn, now, and while   
I don't relish the thought of you out without a keeper, I'd have   
thought you'd be jumping at the chance."

Yet another shrug. Getting good at those, now. "Knew you'd be   
hacked off if I did a runner, and then who'd keep me in blood an'   
fags? I figured you lot would be here anyway." /Liar. You want to   
push your way into that damn room, wherever it is, and hold him and   
kiss his face and watch him breathe.../ He grinned to hide his   
terror, and wandered over to the magazine rack, feeling eyes on his   
back.

/Thank...whatever...for vamp hearing./ He could hear Willow's soft   
voice, asking Giles when they'd be let in to see Xander. "Hopefully   
within the hour." /And let them try to stop me getting in then.../   
NO interest in the magazines, so back to the Scoobies, still feeling   
the raised eyebrows at his presence. He flung himself into a chair,   
tried to cultivate his best Angel-While-Brooding expression. His   
foot started tapping on the floor. Fingers drumming on the chair   
arm. Wishing he could smoke. Fight. ANYTHING. Inactivity was   
never really his best state. And the girls were too dazed to do   
anything but sit, and Rupert's eyes were sliding shut, and he was   
going to go fuckin' NUTS if he sat here for another minute...

"Sir?" The soft voice of the nurse brought him bolt upright from his   
slump. "Sir," she was talking to Giles, "you and your friends can   
see Mr. Harris now." He smiled and thanked her and stood, and Spike   
was already hurrying past him, headed straight for the hallway.

"SPIKE! Get back here, you bleached freak." Ah, the dulcet tones of   
a frustrated slayer. He could feel the growl starting low in his   
chest, and didn't break stride. 

"Come on, Buffy..." Willow there, "just come on, it'll be fine. I   
think he's worried about Xander, too..."

"Yeah, worried about where he's going to park his undead ass when the   
sun comes up, most likely..." But she was following.

Spike came through the door of the room a heartbeat after the nurse,   
could feel Giles and Buffy at his back, and couldn't bring himself to   
care. He was across the floor in one long stride. Xander   
looked...so frail. There were bandages on his arms to his elbows,   
and an oxygen tube in his nose, and his pallor under the tan was   
startling against his dark hair, the thick fan of lashes across his   
cheek.

"Pet..." Spike's voice was an soft, aching thing. 

"Hey, Spike." Hoarse, and a whisper, but Xander was ALIVE and was   
talking to him and he almost breathed with the relief. "See...see   
what happens when you go out without me?" And the curve of a tiny   
smile.

"Xander!" Buffy pushed past him, and he stumbled back, unwilling to   
fight now for his place. He watched as those sweet brown eyes opened   
and smiled at his friends, flickered past them to smile at him, at   
HIM, as Willow fussed around and the Watcher put a hand on Xander's   
shoulder and squeezed, and Buffy kissed his cheek, as Xander smiled   
and whispered and assured everyone that he was fine, that Demerol was   
a lovely thing, that he'd be out before they knew it, and did anyone   
know what happened to the house? 

Later, when they were being escorted from the room, Spike broke away   
from the group. "Forgot to tell Xander somethin' about his mum," he   
muttered, and slid back into the little room, and stole over to the   
bed. Xander was lying still, but watching him, and his eyes were   
bright.

"Xander, luv...are you really all right?"

"Yeah, Blondie, I'm really all right." And that smile again, the   
little one, just for him, and he couldn't help himself, couldn't...he   
was grabbing a handfuls of soft, smoke-smelling dark hair, and it was   
awkward around the breathing tube but he managed, and kissing the   
breath out of his boy. Who, despite his bandaged hands, was pulling   
at him just as desperately, fighting to get his tongue past Spike's   
lips, tangling them and sucking at his mouth, slanting his head and   
breathing in little, needy gasps...

"Love you Spike...thought I wasn't ever gonna see you again...and I   
was so SCARED..." Words spoken into his mouth, making them so much   
sweeter. Spike caught his breath /not a sob, NOT, just a hitch/ and   
held him closer, tried to suck him in...

A little noise from the door. Just a small one, like someone   
dropping something light. Xander's eyes snapping beind him, over his   
shoulder, and every muscle going tense.../oh shit.../

"Xander..." A horrified whisper.

"W...Willow?"

/Oh, SHIT./

"Xander, what-"

"Wills, I SO cannot deal with this right now." Spoken around the   
blond head now buried in his shoulder. /Coward./ /Am not. Just   
waiting for the stake in comfort, is all./ But the way the arms   
around him were holding so tight, covering him, maybe not a   
stake. /Yeah, that charming little sun-spell. MUCH better./ But   
what was Xander saying?

"...omplicated, but he's not hurting me, I swear. I WANT this,   
Wills, please....And please, can we talk about this later? My   
throat..." /Ooh, the sympathy card. Very nice, pet./ And Willow   
fell, hook line and sinker, promising /HUH?/ to get Spike under   
cover, to come back first thing tomorrow, at which point-

"You WILL tell me everything, Xander, or I swear...I swear SOMETHING   
bad will happen, I just have to figure out what. And YOU, you, you   
snake-in-the-grass-as-vampire, we are GOING." But she turned her   
back as she left, so Xander could drop little fairy kisses on Spike's   
shocked-open lips, and rub his cheek against the smooth skin. Spike   
pulled back, still staring. Ran his thumb over Xander's lower lip,   
caught the answering grin in one last kiss that, he hoped, said   
everything he wanted it to about terror and almost-loss and almost-  
dust and worth it, and turned for the door and Willow.

/Could have been worse, I s'pose. Could have been BUFFY./


	6. Satellite Campus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's in the bathtub. Xander's not pleased.

Normally, Spike would have opted for a nice, quiet staking over  
accepting a ride from the Watcher, but under the circumstances, being  
huddled under a blanket in the back seat, with Willow's glare burning  
him through the duster AN' the blanket, was really better than he  
could have hoped for. He'd even managed to keep his mouth shut for a  
whole five minutes as the argument raged around him. Angelus would  
be so proud.

"...but I don't see WHY he has to stay with you, Giles..." Buffy,  
and Christ that bitch was whiny. Couldn't see how old Rupert put up  
with it, really he couldn't.

"Buffy, I'm sure we've spoken about this a dozen times. I think we  
all learned from the Adam experience that Spike needs CONSTANT  
supervision, and I can't really see you welcoming him to the dorm."

"Well, why can't I just STAKE him? I mean, chip or not he's a nasty  
evil little freak-"

"HEY!" Yeah, just about five minutes. And Willow's elbow connecting  
with the top of his head. "OW!"

"Shut UP, Spike!" He hadn't known the little witch could hiss like  
that. She'd make a fine vamp, she would.

Weary sigh from the driver's seat. "Buffy, he's helpless against  
you. And he HAS been occasionally useful to us, so it wouldn't be  
right to just, er, do away with him. He's staying with me, and  
that's the end of it."

"Fine. But you'd better be careful, Giles. I just know he'll find  
something horrible to do to you in your sleep."

"He'll be in the bathtub, Buffy. I really don't think there's much  
he can do to me from there."

"HEY! And don't hit me. I never agreed to the soddin' bathtub,  
mate, and if you're thinkin' I'll get back in there you're bloody  
daft-"

"It's that or a nice sunny walk on this lovely morning, Spike. Make  
your choice."

He subsided, muttering. But they'd forgotten something...

"Where's the whelp gonna stay? Now that his pad's all crispy-like?  
QUIT hitting me, Red!"

"He makes a good point...I don't suppose he'll want to go with his  
parents...wherever. And the dorm simply won't do..."

"He could stay with Oz?" Willow's voice was a little hesitant,  
there, so Spike contented himself with a low, rumbling growl that he  
HOPED was inaudible. /Over my pile of ashes the boy's staying there  
without me.../ Though if he could get out of the Watcher's bleedin'  
bathtub, the place had possibilities. No stompin' from upstairs, for  
one. And nice scenery, for another.

"Yes, yes I suppose. For a while, at least, until he can find a new  
apartment. Someone should call and make sure that's all right...Here  
we are."

And even Spike, dizzy from the pain of the sun through the blanket as  
he rushed the door, had to admit that he was stymied. There just  
wasn't any place else for Xander to go. /But I'm gonna phone over  
there and make sure a few things are real fuckin' clear.../

****************************

Xander could NOT sit still for another minute. His hands hurt, his  
throat ached, his butt was sore from sitting in this damn hospital  
bed all morning and afternoon, and he was almost frantic about  
Spike. Surely Willow wouldn't do anything terrible to him? Hurt  
him, or tell Buffy, or... _*OK, Xander, calm down. If she was gonna  
dust him he'd have been dust right here.*_

He was caught mid-fidget when a spiky head poked around the doorframe  
and grinned at him.

"DEVON!"

"Hey, Xander. How you feeling?" He sauntered into the room, staring  
around, hands in pockets. "Spike called, raving about gods-knows-  
what before he got cut off. Sounded like someone was smacking him.  
But I did get that you were here. Jesus, Xan, what happened? You  
look like shit."

"Um, thanks?" But he was smiling. He had COMPANY. "Apparently, my  
mom left something on the stove and passed out. Fire, smoke, it was  
all of the bad. But they're gonna let me out tonight, I guess. Hey,  
where's Oz?" He hadn't seen one without the other in so long, he  
kinda thought of them as a unit. Gift-pack. Two-for-the-price-of-  
one. _*Oooh, Demerol is NICE...*_

"He's doing that wolf-thing tonight, so he's getting caged up.  
Headed out for Giles' place a while ago. So you get me," arms thrown  
wide extravagantly, "all to your little ol' self."

"Wonderful." Xander smirked. "Wanna hold my bedpan?" And laughing  
at Devon's horrified recoil hurt his throat, but it was just too  
funny.

"No, and if you ask me for a sponge bath I'm outta here." Devon  
always did have a short recovery time. "So..." he seated himself  
gingerly on the edge of the bed, "what happens now? Do you have any  
stuff? Clothes or anything?"

"I don't know. The fire department wouldn't let Giles into the  
house, he called earlier." _*And no one needs to know how hard it was  
not to ask what he was doing with Spike...* _ "Right now I'm pretty  
much homeless, I guess."

"Hey, you can stay with us, man. No problem."

"Thanks, Dev. I just might need to take you up on that. It's  
just...Spike..."

"Oh, hey, he can come too. We've got that spare bedroom since Rick  
got his own place, y'know."

"Well...that gets complicated." _*Like it wasn't before?* *But this  
is so much MORE complicated...*_

"How come?" Dev looked honestly confused. "Oh, you don't want your  
little friends finding out? That's cool, I'll just tell em' Spike's  
MY new pet." Patented Devon-smirk, ALMOST as annoying as Spike-smirk.

"Yeah, right, and then he'd rip your nuts off and feed 'em to you.  
Devon, Spike's a VAMPIRE. He was SUPPOSED to be tied up the entire  
time he was staying with me. I have a feeling Giles has him chained  
in a bathtub right now, and he's NOT gonna be happy about that. Even  
less if I moved in with my two...whatever you guys are. Were.  
Whatever. He's...more than a little bit possessive."

Devon shrugged. "Screw it, then. Tell 'em all you two are bonking,  
and invite him over with you. What are they gonna do? Slap your  
hand? You're a big boy, Xander, you can sleep with whoever you want."

 _*AARGH!*_ "Dev..." No. It was hopeless. Devon, in all his  
exuberant sexuality, had no idea how hard it would be for him to  
stroll up to his friends _*family, really*_ and casually announce his  
newfound bisexual orientation. "Just...it won't work, ok? And if  
anyone finds out about Spike they'll probably kill him, so keep it  
zipped about that. Can you?"

"Kill him? Are you kidding?"

"No. I'm really not. Spike has...kind of a bad history with Buffy,  
and she DEFINITELY wouldn't appreciate the news that he's, er, more  
than friendly with me. She'd probably stake him, for my own good,  
naturally." _*Not to mention what Giles would do. Shudder.*_

"Huh." That seemed to have taken Dev aback a little. "Must be  
crappy, having a lover that's always about to get offed by your  
friends."

 _*Oh, beautiful understatement...*_ "Yeah, it kinda is."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Devon playing idly with one of  
his prescription bottles, Xander staring hard at his blue hospital  
blanket, as if it would reveal the answers to all his questions.  
They both looked up, a little relieved, when a round nurse bustled  
into the room, all good cheer and efficiency.

"Right, Mr. Harris. The results of your tests are in, and you're  
free to go. Here, sign these..." she handed him a sheaf of  
papers, "...and take these..." a bottle of pills, "and these instructions on the care of your burns.  
Stay away from smoke...you don't smoke, do you? Good. Stay away  
from smoke or heavy pollution for a few weeks, you need to give your  
lungs a break. And no heavy lifting, with those hands, for at least  
that long. Now, I've scheduled you to come back in for a checkup  
next week, and if there's ANY sign of infection, you come right back  
here and see us."

He nodded dumbly, scribbled his name on the papers  
 _*there goes my firstborn child, I'm sure*_ and sat still while she  
disconnected his breathing tube and the IV in his elbow. The air  
felt hot and strange in his lungs after the pure oxygen he'd been  
getting. A little dizziness, and he was standing, Devon's hand under  
his elbow carefully.

"You ok, dearie?" The nurse was still there, checking his  
forms. "No faintness, and you're breathing easily?"

"Yeah." His voice was raspier than before. All the talking, and he  
really didn't want to do any more of it. "Fine. Can I go home now?"

"Young man, can you drive Mr. Harris home?" She was looking at Devon  
sternly, plainly distrusting his punked-out disheveledness.

"Yeah, sure. Wherever you wanna go, Xander." He smiled his relief  
and thanks at Devon, and reached for his clothes.

***************************************

"Fuck this bathtub, and fuck this chip, and fuck that I missed  
PASSIONS! You hear that, Watcher? I want a TELLY in here and I want  
it NOW!" Thump, thump. He was kicking his feet against the tub,  
knew it was childish and didn't care.

"Shut UP, Spike!" Quieter muttering, only barely audible to vampire  
ears through the closed door and the distance. "Vampire in my  
bathtub, werewolf in my basement, good GOD why did I ever leave  
England?" Spike smirked. If he was gonna be chained in a bathtub  
freezing his knackers off, he was going to be damn sure no one else  
enjoyed it either.

"I" thump "WANT" thump "A" thump "TELLY!" Yes, this had definite  
entertainment potential.

"SPIKE!" Ooh, a bit of Ripper, there. But nothing followed but the  
sound of the door downstairs, and voices too low for him to  
hear. /Xander?/ All thoughts of playing about fled. /Sod this, I  
can't hear an effing thing.../

"WATCHER! That had better be the blokes from the cable company!" If  
it was his Xander, at least he'd know where he was, now. And yes,  
there were feet on the stairs, and a familiar heartbeat, and sweet  
warm scent layered over with hospital smell...he couldn't keep the  
grin off his face, and didn't even really try. The door swung  
open...and he had a mirror for his smile.

"Oooh, Spike in chains. THIS is interesting." Xander's voice was  
low and hoarse, but his smile was still bright as he crossed to sit  
on the edge of the tub.

"Hey, pet. How's tricks?" He rattled his chains as suggestively as  
he could, and leaned into the touch and purred a little when Xander  
reached out and ran bandaged fingers through his hair.

"Oh, you know me. Fire, smoke inhalation, lover in a bathtub..."  
The hand slipped down to cup his cheek, and Spike closed his eyes and  
purred harder. "Was...was everything ok, this morning? Did  
Willow..."

"Nah. The little witch kept her trap shut. Right trooper, she is.  
Hurt my head though, what with all the smackin' she was doing."

"Aw. Poor Spikey. Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

"Oh, YEAH..." and Xander leaned in, and there was a warm mouth on his  
own, just a touch, then moving to his cheeks and across his eyelids,  
kissing the scar on his eyebrow, then back to his mouth. Hotter and  
open now, and a tongue sliding in /God, he tastes so sweet, wish I  
could touch him too/ for him to suck on, and play with, and  
nibble... "OUCH! I wasn't gonna bite him, sod it all...stupid chip."

But Xander was already standing, grinning. "I've gotta get back  
downstairs, Spike, or they're gonna thing something's wrong. Devon's  
entertaining Giles now, they're talking guitars or something,  
but..." and serious-face now, "Spike...I'm going to have to stay  
with them, for a while...is that...is that OK?"

Spike grunted. "Not a bloody lot I can do about it from here, is  
there?" And the chains-rattle this time was not suggestive.

"I'll figure something else out, if it really bothers you." So few  
words, to make him feel so warm...

"No, luv, it's fine. Just tell those brats from me that if one  
FINGER comes near you-" He snarled, gamefaced for emphasis.

"Right. I think they know, but I'll tell 'em. Not like I'd let  
them, you know, Spike." And he meant it, Spike could see, but...

"I know, pet. Now get out of here before the Watcher comes looking  
for you." Xander leaned down, one last hard kiss, and he was gone,  
door closing behind him. Spike could hear the voices again, hear  
Devon's rich laugh and Xander's higher one joining him, and then the  
slam of the door and he was alone again.

"NOW I'm missing the SIMPSONS! Will this torture never END?" Thump,  
thump, thump.

******************************

It had been a week. A bloody hellish week of stolen kisses in the  
bathroom, a desperate grope on the stairs once, hot, hungry brown  
eyes staring at him, and more sexual frustration than Spike could  
remember. And his memory was pretty fuckin' good, if he did say so  
himself. And now he was out /OUT!/ on patrol, a night-pass for less-  
annoying-than-usual behavior and because someone had seen a rather  
large SOMETHING in the cemetary, and of course, who did they call?  
That's right. Spike the punching bag, Spike the demon-slayer, Spike  
who was so horny he felt like he was gonna sodding EXPLODE if he  
didn't get his end away soon.

Xander was bouncing, that was the only word for it, on his first  
patrol for a week too, and under strict instructions to spectate  
only. Up next to Riley, while HE was stuck back here ignoring the  
Slayer. That just seemed unfair all 'round, to him. He had an idea  
that Buffy still suspected him of somehow starting the fire that had  
almost taken out Xander's whole block, though, since there wasn't any  
other reason for her to be stuck to him like glue.

Oh well.

At least the whelp didn't seem to be takin' it too hard that he'd lost  
another job. And had no clothes /though THOSE were no great loss/  
and was currently wearing jeans that were long enough and tight  
enough and torn-and-patched-and-sparkly enough to have recently  
belonged to Devon. Growl.

"Slayer, will you PLEASE shut UP?" The prattle had finally gotten to  
him. "Won't be able to hear the bloody demon if it's here, will I,  
with all your nattering on. Plus, you're makin' my head hurt. So  
shut it." Riley grinned back at him /a little sympathy there,  
perhaps?/ and gestured to an astonished Buffy to come up and walk  
with him. /Thank the demons below./ Xander fell back into step with  
him, cast a sidelong mischevious look, and reached out to twine his  
fingers with Spike's.

"Xander, have you gone completely 'round the bend?" Whispered  
urgently, and he tugged on his hand, but it was held firm.

"I thought...I might be getting tired. Still not quite back to full  
strength, you know. And...maybe you could walk me home?" Big eyes,  
lashes fluttering. "Protect me from all the nasty...demons out  
tonight?" Spike stopped dead, yanked his hand out of Xander's.

"Slayer? Soldier-boy?"

"What is it now, Spike?" There was no need for her sigh to be THAT  
long-suffering, HE wasn't the annoying blond with the big mout-oh,  
wait.

"The whelp's lookin' a bit fashed. Pale an' all. Want I should  
babysit him home to the whorehouse?" They'd all laughed when he'd  
started calling the bandhouse that, but he'd kind of meant it. Just  
not how they'd thought. Maybe Willow. Who was still looking at him  
with worried eyes, despite the long talk Xander had sworn he'd had  
with her.

"Spike, there's a demon out...we've got to get it tonight."

"Right, which is why you prolly don't want your puppy here out  
wandering the streets, alone and defenseless-like."

Riley looked concerned, and opened his mouth, but Xander overrode him.

"Willow and Tara and Giles are out there too, you know. You don't  
need me, and I'll be fine. Spike won't let anything happen to me, he  
knows what would happen if he did."

"Yeah, he DOES, right Spike?" And Buffy was holding a stake to his  
chest. How could such a little bint be so damned scary? Right.  
Slayer. "And you go straight back to Giles', and no funny stuff, or  
you're dust, buster." Riley and Xander snickered. Spike was not  
amused.

"Get a new line, Slayer, that one's gettin' all worn out. C'mon,  
Xander." /Not even Her Buffyness can change the fact that I. AM.  
GOING. TO. SHAG./

He could still hear Xander chuckling a little, but as soon as they  
were out of eyesight, he spun around and smiled and kissed Xander  
into the nearest tree, THUD! And the laughter was gone like that,  
and hot hands were finally, FINALLY sliding under his shirt, and  
fingers were biting into his sides with a desperate grip, and his own  
hands were wandering too, up Xander's back and down to cup his  
buttocks, to pull him into Spike and let him know just how much he'd  
needed this. Had been needing it since the fire, since he thought  
he'd lost the boy.

He was snarling, now, he could hear it, but  
Xander was just pressing harder against him and biting his neck, his  
ear, and that wet mouth was moving, and he strained to hear.

"I'm still here...still here, Spike...still with you...still love  
you..." And he wasn't going to make it back to the house. /Fuck,  
I'll be lucky if I can make it to the ground./ He tumbled Xander  
carefully to the grass /hey, guess I did/, sent a quick prayer up to  
the god of horny vampires that nothing would interrupt them here  
under the trees, and got his fingers to work on zippers and buttons.  
One popped off, and Xander let out a breathless gasp of laughter,  
even as he was struggling with Spike's own jeans.

"Jesus, Spike, couldn't you get 'em a size bigger..." And they were  
pushed down to his hips, no time for boots or more, because those  
ridiculous too-tight Devon-jeans were OFF and he was pushing Xander  
down, rubbing their hard lengths together, and groaning deep in his  
chest. Xander's head was thrown back on the grass and his breath was  
coming short and hard.

Spike reached down to hold them both, and Xander shuddered and BUCKED up into him, and reached up to yank him  
down into a kiss. Mouths never parting, wet and wanting and needy  
kisses, as they thrust together /all I can take, right now/ and Spike  
was propped on his elbows, arms and hands along Xander's sides under  
his shirt, head bent to the boy's, feeling the heat and the heartbeat  
like it was his own. /My own.../ Pushing and pushing against  
Xander, into the warm palm that had drifted down to replace his own  
around their cocks, until he could feel that sweet familiar tension  
in the body under his, and sealed their mouths to swallow Xander's  
scream. Followed him, a heartbeat /our heartbeat/ later, and  
collapsed down, his head resting on a heaving chest. Feeling the  
shaking hand come up to cradle his skull, stroke through his hair.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we do it again?"

Laughing. "Sure, pet. But let's find a bed first, yeah?"

*************************

Later, in the spare bedroom that Xander had claimed, he was up on one  
elbow, watching an utterly exhausted brown-eyed boy fight off sleep.  
Stroking the shiny burn scars gently; Xander had told him they  
itched, and his coolness made it better.

"Sleep, pet. I'm off to the Watcher's soon anyway." /An' it's back  
to the bathtub for 'ol Spike after THIS night out./

"No, I wanna ask you something." /This CAN'T be good./

"Yeah? Well, ask away."

"Why can't you tell me you love me?" /Oh, sweet sodding hell./  
Those eyes were looking at him, with that LOOK that always made him  
melt.

"Xander...."

"I wanna know. I know you feel SOMETHING. I know YOU, Spike, and I  
know it's not just a shag. So what is it?"

He stopped his stroking, rolled to his back and put his hands behind  
his head. Wished he could just get up and go, but that was too low  
even for HIM. Sighed.

"No, luv, it's not just a shag. I feel...things for you."

"What things?" /Eager as a puppy, this one. An' he's gonna get  
kicked./

"Things. But Xander, you have to understand...you're MORTAL. That  
means you're gonna want kids an' a house, things a vampire  
couldn't /I couldn't/ give you, and you're gonna get old, and  
eventually die." Felt a shudder go through him HARD at the thought.  
Things. Right.

"An' vampires...we move around a lot. Always on the  
go, that's us. There's no way one of us can be with one of you for  
long. It just don't work. I've seen Dru try, seen others try, an'  
it ends in heartbreak all 'round."

He flipped over, to look into eyes that were still calm, though the mouth was tense. Stroked the  
smooth cheek. "I just don't want you gettin' too attached, pet. Nor  
me either. I've had my heart broken before, and it just ain't fun. And you WILL find someone else, Xan."

"No," and the voice was serious, contemplative, and Xander stared  
into his eyes with all the surety in the world, "I don't think I  
will, Spike." And the sweetest, softest little kiss...And Spike was  
lost. Was holding Xander close, hard, like he'd never, ever let  
go. /Fuck being the grownup, fuck bein' sensible, fuck heartbreak.../

"Oh, Hells, I love you too, Xander, I do." And Xander was laughing  
into his mouth, and his eyes were burning bright, and Spike knew he  
wasn't going back to the Watcher's tonight.


	7. Homeroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oz gets a call. Spike, you guessed it, is not pleased.

Oz woke early and suddenly, fine-tuned ears catching the faint sound  
of ringing. The laundry was ringing. Or, rather, Devon's pile of  
hard-worn jeans and socks and boxers was ringing, and it took a  
minute for Oz to puzzle out that it was the phone. He'd half-fallen  
out of the bed and pawed through the clothes, crouched on the floor,  
blinking in the bright morning.

"'Lo?" He knew his voice was rough and abrupt with sleep, but the  
fact that he'd actually managed to find the damn phone on the  
fifteenth ring or so should, he imagined, be sufficient to excuse his  
rudeness.

"Xander?"

"No, Oz."

"Oh. Can I talk to Xander, Oz?" There was a worried, tense note in  
Buffy's voice on the line, which woke him up a little more.

"Is something wrong, Buffy? It's six a.m."

"Did you see Xander come in last night? Do you know if he's there?  
Spike never came back to Giles' place last night and he was supposed  
to be protecting Xander, and I want to make sure he's ok. Can I talk  
to him?" Rapid-fire Valley Girl-speak was really too much for him to  
bear at this hour, Oz thought, and suddenly wanted to be off the  
phone and asleep again.

"Hang on, I'll check." He dropped the handset into a conveniently  
soft pile of t-shirts, and padded out the door, across the hall, and  
silently swung the door open. What he saw made him smile softly, and  
leave the door open a crack on his way back.

"He's here, Buffy. Asleep, looks fine."

"Can I talk to him?"

Oz considered for a moment.

"No. He's sleeping. Bye, Buffy." And he hung up the phone. After  
a second of staring at it, he reached out and unplugged it as well.  
He hadn't meant to be rude to Buffy, but what he'd seen in Xander's  
bed looked like something that belonged in a museum, or maybe an art  
gallery. Oz was a big believer in art being made available to the  
public. He went to shake a VERY annoyed Devon awake, and get his  
camera.

***

"Wow, Oz." Devon wrapped his arms around the slender body in front  
of him, resting his chin on the top of an available if slightly-too-  
short head. "You were right." His whisper was only a little amused.

They were standing in the door of Xander's bedroom. Dim, indirect  
light filtered through the closed shades and curtains, and lit the  
two bodies in the bed. A dark blue top sheet was pushed down to the  
foot of the bed, and Xander and Spike were curled together in the  
very center of the mattress. Xander was spooned behind Spike, who  
was lying partially on his stomach, exposing the elegant line of hip  
and thigh and ribs and torso, skin startlingly pale and smooth in the  
half-light. His lips were curled up into a little smile, and thick  
dark lashes marked a perfect crescent against his cheek. Xander was  
pressed against Spike with every inch of available skin, leg tucked  
in behind his bedmate's so that the hollow of his pelvis perfectly  
fitted against the curve of Spike's hip. Thigh touched thigh, knee  
in bend of knee, and his body molded so close to Spike's that only  
darker skin marked the delineation. One arm was thrown around the  
vampire's waist, curving up to rest near his shoulder, where his  
fingers were twined with paler, smaller ones. And Xander's lips were  
just touching the nape of Spike's neck, as if he'd fallen asleep in  
the middle of a kiss. Oz couldn't tell for sure, but he thought  
Xander might be smiling too.

Against the dark sheets they looked like ying and yang, sun and  
shadow, complementing each other perfectly. Perfect.

SNAP-whirr! One picture, then two, and blue eyes were slitting open  
to stare at them balefully. Spike didn't move, though, and Oz could  
FEEL Devon smirking behind him.

"What are YOU two deviants doin' up at this awful hour? And what the  
bloody hell is that?" Spike's voice was low and gravelly, and there  
was definitely a growl in there somewhere. Xander rolled against him  
a little more, and mumbled something inaudible into the back of his  
neck, and Spike's fingers tightened around the brown ones wound with  
his own.

"THIS is a camera, Spike. And I'm up because your mom called. You  
missed curfew last night." He couldn't stop staring, vampire-growls  
or not. It wasn't like he got to see Xander naked all the time  
anymore, and Spike was just pretty. Pretty like art, he assured  
himself hastily.

"Shit. Which was it, Slayer or witch? Either's as bad, I s'pose.  
Can't a man have a shag and a nap in PEACE around here? Fuck-ALL, I  
hate Sunnyhell." Piece spoken, Spike nuzzled his face back into the  
pillow. "An' you two can just bugger off before I wipe that nasty  
smirk off Starboy's face. An' those piccies are MINE, not yours,  
hear?"

"But we wanna WATCH...Come on, Spike..." Devon had not had the  
proper fear of vampiric vengeance instilled in him, Oz decided.

"Spike?" Soft voice from the bed.

"Bollocks. Now you've woken the whelp up. Nothin' for it...gonna  
have to shag him back to sleep. So get OUT!" Xander rolled onto his  
back, blinking sleepily, and stared at the two in the door.

"Guys? What's going on?" Oz felt his eyes widen appreciatively as  
Spike growled, for real this time, and rolled too, landing facedown  
on Xander and giving him and Devon a lovely view of pale backside and  
a few more prominent features as he went. He could feel Devon  
opening his mouth, could tell that something utterly insane would be  
forthcoming, clamped down on the arm around his chest, and...

Was saved, unexpectedly, by a knock on the front door. They all  
froze, and looked up inquiringly.

"Huh. Maybe I shouldn't have hung up on Buffy." At the time,  
though, it had seemed like a wonderful idea.

Spike groaned, jumped off of Xander and stalked towards Oz.

"You did WHAT? Couldn't just tell the nosy bint that all's well, no,  
you had to hang UP on her? Have fun cleanin' my ashes off the  
carpet, mate. And ta VERY much, I don't think."

"Hey!" Devon objected. "It's six thirty in the morning! I don't  
see YOU thinking very clearly. Not that I'm minding the view or  
anything, but do you own boxers or something? It might be nice to  
meet your impending death without your parts hanging out all over."  
Spike threw up his hands, and turned to rummage in the hamper. Devon  
stared, and grinned.

Xander sighed and stretched. "No one's gonna die, guys. I'll just  
tell her you fought off some...THING...while I escaped, and that I  
yelled at you to find a crypt to hole up in if you could. No big.  
But shouldn't someone go get the door? Spike, what are you DOING?"

"They aren't for me, pet. Don't want the two peepers here gettin'  
more of a view of your private bits."

"Spike, they've SEEN my private bits before..." But Xander sighed  
again, pulled on the sweatpants a still-naked Spike had heaved at  
him, and followed the boxers-clad Oz downstairs. Leaving naked  
Devon, still staring at naked Spike.

"Got an eyeful, did you, singer?" Complete lack of modesty was  
sometimes a good thing, Spike thought, as he smirked.

"Oh, yeah." As was a complete lack of shame, Devon thought, as he  
smirked right back. With a mutually appreciative leer, they turned  
back to respective rooms.

*************************************

Buffy had had a rough night. Hours of stalking the elusive Whatever  
Demon without success. A quick and unsatisfying fight with a  
fledgling, then back to Riley's for a little _*blush*_. And just as  
things were getting good, Giles had called, worried about Xander.

 _*I spend TOO much time worrying about Xander.*_ She knew she was  
being grumpy-Buffy, but really, between the fire and the demon-  
magnetism and now this, it was all too much. And Oz hanging up on  
her? OZ??

_*He's not back in town three months, and he's DEFINITELY  
not showing the right attitude, since we all forgave him for almost  
eating Tara! I mean, come on! And he's sleeping with that slutty  
singer, I just KNOW it. I just hope Willow never finds out...Hmmm, I  
wonder if the whole world really IS gay?...*_

"OZ." Speak of the little devil. She had to admit, it was sometimes  
pleasant not to put a crick in her neck when she had to stare someone  
into submission. She stared. Oz blinked sleepily at her, then, with  
an almost-yawn _*how dare he?*_ , he opened the door wider and motioned  
her in.

"What was UP with that, Oz? What's going on with Xander? Why didn't  
you put him on the phone?"

"He was sleeping." More sleepy blinks. She'd never seen anyone look  
less intimidated, so she stepped up the glare. This one even SPIKE  
paid attention to _*oooh, and when I get my hands on that bleached  
menace...* _

"You can stop glaring at him, Buffy." And there was Xander,  
barechested in sweats, sounding amused. "Oz isn't scared of much,  
you know."

Oz nodded at him, and wandered back towards the stairs, scratching  
absently at a bare side.

"WHATever. Xander, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Got in a little late, but I'm fine. What's going  
on, Buff? What brings the Buffster out before the sun?" Goofy  
grin.

"Xander..." She sighed and shook her head. "Spike didn't go back to  
Giles' last night, and we were afraid that he'd...done something to  
you."

 _*Oh, if you only knew...*_ "Last time I saw Spike he was fighting  
like a...er...demon, keeping something big and nasty from having  
Xander tartare for dinner. He never made it back?"

Buffy deflated a bit. "Oh. No, he's not back."

"Well, I told him that if he got banged up, he should just hole up in  
a crypt. I mean, c'mon, Buffy. He's got the chip and it's perfectly  
operational, y'know." Xander manfully bit down on a yawn of his own,  
firmly suppressed the image of naked vampire in his bed, and  
smiled. "Thanks for worrying, but I'm really ok."

She smiled back, opened her mouth...and her eyes narrowed suddenly.

"Xander...there's a vampire in this house!"

"Er, what?" _*I'm not panicking, I'm not panicking, watch me not  
panic!*_ "What are you talking about?"

"That slayer-sensey thing I've got is going all oogy. Where's the  
basement? It's a good thing I came, or you guys could have been an  
early-morning snack!" She pushed past his outstretched arm, ignored  
the halfhearted "Wait, what?" and headed determinedly for the stairs.

A quick sweep of the basement turned up nothing. _*Duh, Xander.*_ She  
stormed towards the stairs, trailing an increasingly miserable Xander  
Harris, whose suggestions that maybe she was picking up Oz or old  
traces of Spike were met with scorn.

 _*Please be hearing this, Spike, please be dressed, please don't be  
naked in my bed...* _ Up the stairs, Xander trying to make his steps  
as heavy as possible, alternating them with Buffy's... _*Spike, we've  
got company!*_

And an empty room. His. No naked body in the bed. _*Thank all the  
Gods and Goddesses that be...*_ But Buffy's brow was furrowed, and  
she stepped into the room.

"Here, vampire vampire vampire..." Her soft tone made the hair on  
the back of his neck stand up.

"Bloody hell." Grumbling voice from below the bed. "'m not a  
soddin' puppy, slayer, you know."

 _*AAAGH! SPIKE!*_ "AAAGH! SPIKE!"

"Spike, get out here NOW!" She was brandishing the stake with some  
serious purpose, Xander estimated.

"Fine. Can't get a wink of sleep in these parts, y'know." He slid  
out from under the bedframe, sinuous grace in jeans and a black t-  
shirt, and stood, shaking himself a little. "Now what-EERP!"

"I TOLD you what would happen to you if you didn't go back to Giles',  
you undead perv." Her hand was around his throat, a stake at his  
chest, his back against the wall, and Spike cast a beseeching glance  
at Xander, where he stood, face in full panic-mode, behind the  
Slayer. /Bit naff if I'm dusted for the wrong thing, innit? C'mon,  
whelp, save my arse./

"Buffy...he can't tell you what's going on if you keep strangling  
him. Buff...c'mon, let him go..." She dropped him with a grunt, and  
Spike rubbed his throat, glaring.

"Fought off a demon for the whelp, didn't I? And dawn was coming,  
an' no crypt in sight, 'least not one without Harmony in. So I  
popped in here for a bit of a wink, no one the wiser. Wouldn't have  
been a bit of harm without you comin' bargin' in, all delusions of  
savior, an' wakin' the house up." He indicated the door with his  
chin. "Even got the landlords outta bed."

Xander and Buffy spun, to see a worried-looking Oz and Devon, fully-  
clad now, hovering in the door.

"Everything ok, Xander?" Dev was being uncharacteristically sober,  
not even making faces at Spike. "Hey Spike. What's going on?"  
Casual greeting. As if they hadn't been ogling each other minutes  
before. _*Thank you, Devon...*_

"Devon..." Buffy was incredulous, "You KNOW him?"

"'Course." Idle shrug, and Oz nodded. "He was at the party. We  
smoked some weed."

"WHAT??" She spun to face Spike. Now that the imminent threat was  
past, Xander was starting to enjoy this.

"Oh, fine. Just the once, and now the Slayer's gonna spread it all  
over that Spike's gone hippie. Thank YOU, Devon." From Spike's  
little smile, he was enjoying it too.

"Oh, hey man, any time. You know how impressed I am with your rep."  
Spike affably flipped Devon the bird, and Buffy was well and truly  
baffled. Even Oz was smiling.

"Spike, you still haven't said what you were doing under Xander's  
BED!"

"Tch, Slayer, mind your tone. Don't want the neighbors in, do we?  
Anyway, it's dark down there, innit? Didn't figure the boy would  
mind, what with me savin' his sorry hide earlier, an' I'd get some  
sleep. Which I could continue to do now, if you'd just sod off like  
a good little slayer and leave me be."

"Fine. FINE. But you tie him up, Xander, and I want him back at  
Giles' FIVE MINUTES after sundown." With a last huff, she spun on  
one heel, pushed past Oz and Devon without a word, and, trailing a  
still-grinning Xander, stomped down the stairs.

"Whew." Devon stepped into the room and sank down on the bed. "It  
is WAY too early for that kind of drama."

"Yeah." Oz wandered over to sit by him with a sigh. Spike grinned  
harder and lit a cigarette, leaning on the bedpost by Devon's feet.

"Welcome to the Hellmouth, boys. Demonic fun an' games, 24-7."  
Devon kicked out at him idly, only to have his foot slapped away.

"Not THAT kind of drama, you idiot. The almost-dead-lover-of-friend  
kind. I feel like I'm living in a fucking soap opera, here. And  
it's only seven in the morning, for Chrissakes!"

"Yeah." Oz said again. Flopped back on the bed, legs dangling over,  
and closed his eyes.

"Oi! That's my bed you're makin' so free with, there." There was no  
real irritation in his voice, though, so Oz didn't even blink.

"Whatever, Spike." Devon, again in teasing mode. "It's OUR bed, if  
you wanna get technical about it. So if I wanted to do this..." he  
laid his head in the hollow below Oz's ribcage, "or this..." he  
turned his head and ran his tongue over the strip of bare skin  
between shirt and pants, "or even THIS..." he nuzzled lower, where  
Oz was beginning to feel VERY appreciative, even as he grinned behind  
closed eyes, "there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

"Hmmm. S'pose not, when you put it that way." There was something  
in that smooth voice...Oz turned his head and let his eyes fall  
open.

Spike's casual slouch against the bedpost had...changed. Coiled up,  
somehow, tension evident in half-lidded eyes, the slow lift of the  
cigarette to his lips. His hair shone white in the dim light as he  
bent his head and...caught Oz's gaze. Stared. _*Well. So this is  
what Xander sees.*_ The calm voice that was Oz in his mind was a  
little shaky now. He turned his head back, stared at the ceiling for  
a second, then relaxed back onto the bed. So be it. A lot of Oz's  
life had been lived by those words, and it seemed to be working so  
far.

"Exactly." Dev's voice was gloating, even as it was muffled in Oz's  
crotch. "You're just going to have to find a new bed to hide under,  
vampire-boy." He did something with his lips that made Oz arch and  
gasp.

"Oh, I don't know that I'd go that far." The voice was closer now,  
and Oz was refusing to look. The bed dipped, and...he looked. Had  
to tilt his head straight up, craning his neck, and saw...thigh.  
Spike was reclining against the headboard, arms behind his head  
comfortably, staring at them unabashedly. Oz didn't care. Devon had  
worked a hand inside his shirt and was doing wonderful things with  
it...

"Spike..." Xander's voice was hesitant from the doorway. "What's  
going on?" He was hovering, looking worried.

"Oh, nothin', pet. Just having a bit of a show here. C'mere."  
Xander wandered over to be pulled into Spike's lap. His eyes were  
huge.

In the process of pulling Oz's jeans down _*I should really just stay  
undressed while I'm home. Think of the time it would save,*_ Devon  
pushed him up on the bed until his head bumped Spike's thigh. He was  
laying crosswise on the big bed now, and warm hands were running up  
and down his legs, touching the soft skin of his inner thighs, and  
 _*oh dear*_ there was another hand running through his hair. Warm.  
Xander. Oh dear.

"Go ahead, luv. Just a taste, mind." The British voice was as soft  
as sun-warmed honey, and Oz had a moment to wonder what THAT would  
taste like, just as Xander bent and kissed him. Upside-down, so that  
his nose was bumping Xander's chin, and the tongues were surface-to-  
surface...ah. He had his hands wound in familiar soft dark curls,  
and his tongue knew THIS game.

Devon had gotten his shirt off somehow, Oz could feel the skin on his  
shoulders and chest rubbing against his legs as the singer bent and  
licked him, root to tip. Swirled his tongue around, and did it again.

"Gaaaahhhh..." And Xander smiled into his mouth as he bucked and  
moaned. It was too EARLY for this, dammit. Then strong hands were  
pulling Xander back, just a little resistance and he went, and Oz  
opened dazed eyes to see a light head tilt to a dark, and mouths  
meet. Looked down to see Devon staring up past him, and knew he was  
seeing the same thing. Saw those pale little hands curving around  
sun-browned shoulders, pulling at dark hair, digging little dimples  
into the smooth skin of Xander's back.

"Mmmm." He couldn't tell which one of them had made that sound.  
Maybe it was him. But Devon was moving up his body, eyes avid,  
getting a closer look and lying against him, full body.

"Right, pet." Not honey. Silk. "My turn, then?" At Xander's nod,  
Spike reached down and tangled a hand into Devon's hair. "S'okay?"  
Devon nodded too, dumbfounded, and licked his lips. Spike's eyes  
went hot. Hotter. He pulled Devon up until his head was past Oz's,  
till he was almost kneeling, and Oz flipped over to get a better  
look. Saw Xander doing the same thing, and shared an understanding,  
lust-filled glance. _*This I have GOT to see. Really see.*_

Spike stared at Devon for one more, long second, then pulled him in.  
 _*Ooh, Dev won't like that...*_ and indeed he didn't, pulling back  
against the hand in his hair, wrapping his own long fingers in  
platinum curls. When their mouths met it was hard, almost bruising.  
It was no contest, though, really...Spike pushed back against the  
headboard with his free hand, bending Devon back and back until he  
fell onto the bed, and Spike followed him down. Lips swollen and red  
traced down his jaw, nibbled at his earlobe, wrung a moan out of him  
all unwilling. Came back to his mouth, and it was softer  
now...sweeter, and when his mouth opened a delicate tongue touched  
his palate, stroked his lips, set him on fire...

Spike pulled back with a little hitch in his breath, stared down at  
Devon, up at Oz, up at Xander.

Oz found himself speaking. Softly.

"C'mon, Dev. Back to our place."

"Whut...?" Devon's eyes were dilated and cloudy.

"Get up, Dev. Not the right time." He caught the grateful look fron  
Xander, the considering glance from Spike, and tugged his lover off  
the bed and towards the door. Shut Spike and Xander's behind him,  
hauled Devon into bed, and set about showing him what the time WAS  
right for.

"Xander?"

"Wow. That was...wow." Xander shook his head, crawled back up to  
Spike.

"Well, bound to happen, what with four lovely bent young men in the  
same digs, an' all."

"Yeah, it's bound to. But not today. Today I just want YOU. Vamp  
who loves me."

Spike snickered, wrapped his arms around his boy, and brought him  
down for a kiss.

"Git. Yeah. I just want you too, luv."

And it was well after noon, the next time a foot was set out of bed  
in that house.


	8. Applied Sciences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike goes boom. Xander's frantic.

Xander knew he was walking around with a big goofy grin on his face.   
He couldn't help but know...when he'd met Buffy and Willow and Tara   
for dinner after depositing Spike at Giles', they'd all immediately   
asked him what was going on. Well, Willow had asked with a little   
smile, Buffy had demanded, and Tara had nodded. He'd just kept on   
grinning, and shaken his head. Smiled through the mu shu pork,   
through the interminable chatter about shoes and spell components and   
agreeing with Willow's assessment of the waitress as "hot," through   
not being able to chip in on the check. Treating Xander to meals was   
becoming a regular Scooby tradition these days. And he pulled Willow   
aside as they left the Oriental Garden, holding her a step back from   
the others, and whispered in her ear.

"He LOVES me!" That was it, but it was really enough, what with the   
grin and all.

"What? Who? Oh, God, Spike?" She'd rolled her eyes at him, but   
squeezed his hand. "Of COURSE he does, Xander."

"No, I mean he told me. Last night. The words and everything." He   
could feel himself bouncing on the balls of his feet. His cheeks   
were starting to ache.

"Wow...I don't know what to say. Um...congratulations?" She still   
looked a little uncertain, but there was a smile lurking around her   
eyes. 

"Thanks!" The bouncing got higher. Perhaps he shouldn't have had   
those three Pepsis. "It was the most amazing thing...he wasn't   
telling me before because he didn't want ME getting too attached. He   
said something about vampires moving around a lot, and not wanting to   
hurt me, or get hurt himself. Can you believe it? And I told him it   
didn't matter, that I loved him for real, and then he admitted it."   
Xander knew he was babbling, oh yes, he knew. But it felt so good to   
tell SOMEONE...

"Xander..." She was laughing out loud, now, and tugging at his hand   
so they could catch up with Buffy and Tara. "Come ON. It's great,   
I'm happy for you, even though I'm still not quite comfy with the   
idea of my best friend having snugglies with a creepy undead evil   
guy. But we've gotta get back to Giles' for the research session."   
She let go of his hand when he started walking, though, and sliped   
her arm around his waist, and gave him a squeeze. "I really am happy   
for you," she whispered. "Just be careful, 'kay?"

"Oh, you know me." He squeezed back. His Willow. "I'm Mr.   
Careful. I give careful whole new depths of meaning. Careful and me   
go around hand in hand, you know."

"Not so much, usually..."

He grinned again, and kept it up all the way to the research session.

**************************************

/Well, ain't I the bloody bollocks?/ Here he was, sitting pretty as   
you please on the watcher's couch, mug of blood in hand, not a   
bathtub in sight. And all he'd had to do was offer to translate a   
scroll from the Weequay, an' brag a bit about the 'fighting' he'd   
done to protect Xander the night before /not that I WOULDN'T fight to   
keep something big an' nasty off the boy, mind/ and just like that,   
back in Watcherly good graces. Waiting for the kiddies to get back   
from wherever they were stuffin' their gobs /an' Xander isn't eating   
nearly enough these days...caught myself counting ribs this morning,   
I did./ Hmmm. Maybe time to get the brat another job so he could   
have a bit of dosh and get out of Devon's clothes. One that   
preferably didn't overlap too much with Spike-time. 

"Spike?" 

"Watcher?"

"Please take your feet off the couch. That's real leather, you know."

"Right, mate." He was willing to be agreeable. To a point. His   
boots hit the floor with a THUMP that made Giles wince from his easy   
chair. Spike grinned, sipped, and went back to pondering his current   
favorite subject while staring blindly at the scroll in front of him,   
relaxed in the dim light and the slight sleepiness of early evening.

He'd gone entirely 'round the bend, that was the only explanation for   
it. Always a sucker for the big dark eyes, him, and couple that with   
a delicious arse and a quirky sense of humor and strong if slightly   
inappropriate courage and you had a recipe for Spike-disaster.   
Love's bitch, indeed. But the way Xander always fell asleep sprawled   
all over him, an' the way he tucked his head under Spike's chin when   
they collapsed, spent, on the bed, an' the way he was always reaching   
out to touch him when they were alone or even just a little hidden   
and the look in his eyes when he did...like he said, he'd always been   
a sucker. And he'd HAD to tell the boy, hadn't he? He was an honest   
demon. Well, mostly. Sometimes. Fine, once in a very long while.   
But love was the one thing he'd always been fairly straightforward   
about, never saw the point in beating 'round the bush.

So there he had it. Love. Long-time, ever-afterin'-it love, even   
when the whelp came to his senses and shoved off for greener and   
alive-r pastures. And much as Spike wanted to believe him when he   
said he wouldn't, he knew in his bones that day would come. Unless   
he turned Xander, and that wasn't an option. The one time he'd even   
tried to nibble his lover's neck he'd been shot in the brain by   
lightning, or felt like. Not that he'd even want to change him, but   
it would be nice to mark the boy as his, at least. His. For as long   
as he could hold him.

The door slammed open, and the puppies tumbled in, dragging his   
attention from his thoughts. Buffy laughing at something Xander had   
said, Willow and Tara holding hands and giggling, shedding purses and   
bags in the entryway. Xander hauling two giant shopping bags and   
grimacing in pretended pain as he dropped them with an   
exaggerated "OOF." 

"Had a spot of shopping, girls?" Spike hadn't moved, but had to   
smile at the sight.

"Oh YEAH." Willow bounced over and plopped down on the couch next to   
him. "While you old fogeys were in here reading, we went to NEIMAN-  
MARCUS." 

Spike's eyebrows were doing their best to crawl off his face. He   
might look a bit domestic here, yeah, but he couldn't recall the   
witch ever just comin' up to him and settling her cute little bum in   
for a chat. 

"Er, I take it it was a success, then?" And did Rupert look just a   
bit pained at all the animated chatter that was suddenly filling his   
flat?

"Giles, they were having a 50% Off sale on shoes. SHOES! Do you   
know how many pairs I go through, with the demon-gunk and the ashes   
and everything?" Buffy was perky enough that she didn't even glance   
at Spike as she crossed her legs and folded to the floor. /Guess we   
can skip the traditional insults, then./ Xander was rummaging   
through the fridge, and called in from the kitchen.

"I wasn't there, but from the weight of those bags it was total   
carnage, G-man. It couldn't have been pretty."

"Xander, PLEASE, I've ASKED you not to call me that..." Deep sigh.

"Sorry. Anyone want a Coke?" Xander strolled into the living room   
three red cans in hand, flopped down on the couch, grinned at Willow   
across Spike. "Is Oz coming tonight?" He asked the room at large.

"I don't know, Xander, you saw him last." Willow ran a hand through   
Tara's hair, where the blond had rested her head on her knee. A   
comfort-motion, Spike thought, like when he stroked the back of   
Xander's neck.../None of that, now. Behave./ "Anyway, I thought he   
had practice tonight. That's what he said on the phone."

"You guys are chatting again?" Buffy sent a worried glance couch-  
ward. /Always protective, the Slayer. Even when she ain't got to   
be. An' don't _I_ know it./

"Yeah. It's...good. We're both happy with other people now. And   
we're being grown-ups." She planted a kiss on the top of Tara's   
head, and her girlfriend smiled up at her from the floor.

"Wait, you KNOW about Oz and that...that...never mind. Of course you   
do." Buffy broke off, took a beverage, started muttering. "The   
whole world really IS gay..."

Xander choked on a swallow of Coke, wheezed, doubled over, and was   
pounded on the back by Spike.

"You all right, mate? Breathe slow, now..." The pounding turned to   
stroking, and Xander turned teary eyes to him from where his head was   
resting on his knees, and Spike yanked his hand back. Settled back   
into the couch with a grumble, ignoring the grin from Red.

"I hate to interrupt this lovely little party, but can we please TRY   
to concentrate on the matter at hand." Rupert was looking at them   
all with affectionate frustration, as he began to hand 'round the   
books. "Perhaps Spike could enlighten us as to the demon he   
encountered last night? Is it the same one that's been leaving slime   
trails all over the bus stops?"

"Nah, this was your standard Fyarl demon. I was gonna come get you,   
Watcher, so you could get a bit of bonding time in, but I pounded it   
hard enough that it scarpered off." He shrugged, shifted a little on   
the couch...there. His leg was pressed against Xander's, under the   
gigantic leather-bound book he'd been given. Xander grinned at him,   
sideways, and pressed back.

"Well, that could be a Fyarl, right? They're slime-oriented demons,   
aren't they Giles?" Buffy with hopeful-face.

Another sigh. "Well, yes I suppose they are. But their slime   
hardens on contact, and the demon we've been tracking leaves that   
rather nasty iridescent stuff. Right then. Crack the books, let's   
get on with it."

It really wasn't so bad, being here, Spike thought, even as he   
flipped pages idly, looking for slime references and trying to figure   
out a way to get his hand under the book and onto Xander. A bit too   
quiet, and he was sitting still, but he had a warm human up against   
him, and a bellyful of blood, and maybe Angel had something with his   
whole cooperation bit.../oh SHIT!/ Wasn't he just about the most   
pathetic thing EVER? He jerked up from the almost-doze he'd fallen   
into, and growled a little. Growled more at Xander's questioning   
look. He was NOT turning into his soddin' nancy-boy of a sire.   
Never. He'd stake himself first. He was here under protest, damnit!

"This is bloody useless." He tossed the book onto the coffee table   
with a bang and stood up. Moved to the back of the couch, brushing   
by Willow without a glance, and started pacing. "Do you lot KNOW how   
many kinds of demon there are that leave slime trails? More than   
you've got in these books, I'd wager."

Willow sent Xander a what-set-him-off? look, and Xander shrugged   
helplessly. 

"Spike, sit down." Giles was glaring at him.

"I don't think I fuckin' will, Watcher! I've been around a BIT   
longer than you, an' I'm telling you, the only way you're gonna get   
this slimy bastard is to go out and GET him. So let's get ON with   
it!"

"Spike...bathtub!" Xander squeaked. The whole room was staring at   
him, and Spike didn't care.

"I'm not a soddin' librarian, an' the only reason I'm here is that   
you're bleedin' MAKIN' me. All this sittin' around and communing is   
makin' my head hurt. So can I go?" Stopped his pacing, stood still,   
staring challengingly at Giles.

Buffy was frowning now, fingering the stake she always carried in her   
pocket, and Xander was looking at him over the back of the couch with   
wide, baffled eyes. He just wanted to get OUT. Away. 

"I'll go with him." Willow's soft voice shocked all of   
them. "On...on patrol, I mean. We can make a sweep, see if there   
are any more clues?"

/Great. Company. Don't care, as long as I can get out of this   
HOMEYNESS./

"Fine. C'mon, Red, let's go."

"Stop right there, Spike. We never said you could..."

"Bite me, Slayer."

And he was out the door, hearing the murmur of voices behind him.   
Willow followed him out silently, stood by while he lit a cigarette,   
and trailed along when he stomped out into the street. 

After a few blocks, he couldn't stand the feeling of eyes on him   
anymore.

"What?"

She was silent.

"Spit it out, Red, we haven't got all night."

"I was just thinking...it's scary sometimes, isn't it?"

"What the HELL are you babblin' about?"

"Love. It's scary."

"Dunno what you're talkin' about."

"Right, Spike. You're feeling all gooshy about Xander, and it's   
making you mean."

"I'm not mean, I'm EVIL. Why can't you lot REMEMBER that?"

"You don't really have to try so hard, you know. We like you better   
un-evil."

He snarled and spun to face her. "I don't CARE if you like me,   
witch. I don't give a bloody SHIT if you hate my guts! I'm not a   
member of your little gang, an' I don't wanna be, an' that's FINAL."

She didn't flinch, which just infuriated him more.

"I think you do, Spike. Xander loves us, and you love Xander, and   
you don't even want to be nasty to us anymore, do you? Well, maybe   
Buffy. But that's different. Anyway, is that what crawled up your   
butt and died?"

He stared at her, speechless, then couldn't help it. He started   
snickering. Then laughing, until the tears almost came. When he   
finally got his breath back, he was leaning against a lamppost, and   
Willow had a small, uncertain smile on her face.

"Ah, Red. You ARE a treat sometimes, you know?" /An' so damn   
perceptive it's scary./ He shook himself off the lampost, and turned   
to keep walking, falling into step beside the witch. The silence was   
much more companionable now.

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"If you hurt him, I'll stake you myself."

"Right."

**********************************

Still no clues found, and Xander was going slowly insane wondering   
what Spike and Willow were doing *no, what they're talking about* out   
there. Spike LIKED Willow, he knew. But still. 

"A-HA!" Buffy's triumphant crow, FINALLY. "It's a Dirgah Demon.   
Big, but very very stupid and slow, and hangs around public   
transportation for some reason. Take THAT, Spike!" 

"What kills it, Buff?" He was eager to get started on finding his   
*suddenly psychotic* lover. 

"Um...not much, unfortunately. Giles, what's that?" She handed the   
book over, pointing at a picture. 

"Er...that's the Wand of Handir, I believe. Magical implement, been   
lost for centuries. Why do you ask?"

"Because THAT is what kills it."

"Oh dear." Watcher nose-rubbing. "Is there anything else?"

"Well...it's got a particular fondness for vampires. Eating them,   
that is. Hey, maybe it'll eat Spike!" Xander could have smacked the   
gleeful smile right off her face as he suddenly tensed all over.

"Spike's with Willow, Buff." He saw Tara go tense, too. "We'd   
better get out there and find 'em."

"Right, you go looking for them. Just keep your distance if you can,   
I'll look into the question of killing it." 

"OK, Giles!" Buffy jumped up, all eagerness for action, and pulled   
Tara and Xander along in her wake. 

"Bus stations, bus stations..." Xander muttered as he strode along,   
much more rapidly than his normal laziness usually allowed. 

"Xander, slow down! If it's concentrating on snacking on Spike, I'm   
sure Willow will have time to get away." Buffy missed the poisonous   
glance he threw her, but Tara reached out and patted his shoulder.   
He looked at her, startled, and she offered a small, comforting   
smile. 

"We'll find them, Xander." And he was almost astonished enough at   
her first unprompted words to him to forget the gnawing worry that   
was edging closer to panic with every minute. He KNEW something was   
wrong. He could just feel it. And as they rounded the corner to bus   
station number three, he froze. Could feel the blood draining from   
his body, leaving him cold.

Willow was chanting frantically, helplessly, from the ground where   
she lay sprawled in a tangle of skirts and blood. Spike was dangling   
from what looked like a broken leg, screaming suddenly, held aloft by   
something...HUGE. Huge and grey, and oozing. No eyes that he could   
see, but a beaklike mouth that was snapping at Spike as he flailed   
and twisted in its hold. He got one arm up around   
its..tentacle...and was shaken off carelessly, brought in closer to   
that beak...

"Spike..." and he didn't know if it was a breath or a scream, but he   
was running, hearing Buffy pounding behind him and seeing Tara angle   
off towards Willow. Good. He was there now, under Spike, seeing the   
glazed yellow eyes as the vampire dangled over his head, as he threw   
himself at a gigantic grey blob of a body with a stake in one hand   
and what Giles had told him was a smallsword in the other. Funny how   
his mind seemed to slow down in moments of utter terror. Smallsword,   
but it didn't LOOK small as it sank into greasy, ashy flesh to the   
hilt, as he pulled it out and danced out of the way as Spike came   
crashing down where he had been standing. He could hear Buffy   
cursing, hear the thumps as she kicked and punched it *oh, for just a   
little of that strength,* and it moved back. He was between it and   
Spike now, hacking at one tentacle while trying to stay out of reach   
of another, striking out with the stake when the sword got too   
slippery to hold *it bleeds slime. Wonderful,* and barely feeling   
Buffy when she pulled on his arm. 

"Xander, gotta GO, can't kill it, come ON!" 

He breathed, turned, grabbed at Spike's duster and YANKED. Picked   
the vampire up with strength he didn't know he had and sprinted for   
the clear. Felt a tentacle catch the back of his head with a SMACK   
and send him sprawling, with no hands free to catch himself. Rolling   
to land on his side, and up again, and running, still holding Spike   
in his arms. Following a bobbing blond head that was all he could   
see.

She stopped about a hundred yards away, where Willow had stumbled,   
and if Xander had had any oxygen left in his body he would have   
thanked her. As it was he stood, heaving chest sucking at air,   
holding an unconscious vampire. Buffy turned back to watch for   
pursuit, and he finally collected himself enough to lower Spike   
gently to the grass.

"Spike...Spike...C'mon, Spike, wake up. Wake up. You have to, I   
haven't had a chance to yell at you for being an asshole earlier.   
C'mon."

But Spike lay still, blood starting to creep out to stain the grass   
beneath him, bones in his face standing out sharp and clean. Eyes   
closed. Pale as final death, and not moving. Xander swore sharply,   
bitterly, and pulled at one sleeve of the duster, manhandling Spike   
out of it. He felt hands helping him, and looked up to see Willow   
and Tara hauling at the coat. He cast them a grateful glance, not   
stopping.

"Wills...you ok?"

"Yeah, it's just a scratch...oh, Xander, that looks really bad." Her   
voice was shocked.

It looked like the demon had had a snack after all, Xander thought   
numbly. Beyond the leg that was lying at an unnatural angle   
*compound fracture, I remember Health class!* a huge bite of flesh   
had been taken out of Spike's side, leaving gleaming, splintered ribs   
exposed to the air. *Oh no ohnoohnononono* He hauled his own shirt   
over his head, pressing it against the wound. Even folded just   
twice, it barely covered the damage.

"Blood, he needs blood..." he looked around frantically, as if a Red   
Cross truck would suddenly appear. Saw Buffy approaching instead.

"Guys, we should...wow, that's kinda nasty." Her nose wrinkled up.

"Back off, Buffy." He didn't recognize the snarl in his own voice as   
he bent back to Spike, but saw the look of astonishment in her   
eyes. "Knife...does someone have a knife? He's bleeding out...I   
don't know how much they can lose...Tara, can you run back to Giles'   
and get the blood? And a car? And will someone please give me a   
KNIFE?" He stared up at them, feeling Spike's blood wash over his   
hands, felt the cold body cooling even further, feeling his heart   
race with adrenaline and panic and his own blood. Willow nodded at   
him once, handed over her penknife.

"Be careful, Xander. Not too much."

"I know, I know..." he muttered distractedly as he held up one wrist.

"What the HELL is going on here? Xander, give me that!" Buffy's   
eyes were flashing, and her hand grabbed at his arm. "Do NOT tell me   
you're gonna cut yourself for that blond freak-" He stood up,   
cutting her words off and shaking her hand loose.

"Don't you DARE call my lover that."

Silence. Shock. He stared at her, mouth tight with anger. Then   
knelt back down by Spike, looked up again at Tara. 

"Tara...Wills...the blood and the car? Please?" Tara spun and took   
off at a run. Willow looked like it would take a towtruck to shift   
her from that spot. 

"Whaaaaatt?" Buffy, behind him, but he didn't have time to care. He   
rolled Spike over onto his back again, careful not to dislodge the   
crude bandage. Settled the blond head on his knees, made a quick   
slash with the knife *doesn't hurt doesn't hurt* and held it to   
Spike's mouth.

"Come on, Spike. Drink. Come on. You're wasting it now. Fresh and   
human. Please, love. Drink." He was chanting, now, soft words that   
he hoped were getting through, hoped with the part of his brain that   
wasn't screaming. Rubbed his bleeding wrist against a cold, white   
mouth, staining it red again. There was no response. "No, Spike,   
don't do this to me, please, come on..." He took a finger and   
collected the blood trickling down his arm, and pushed it into   
Spike's mouth. Felt the tiniest suction. Replaced the finger with   
his wrist again, and this time the mouth latched on, and he felt the   
pull. Weak at first, then stronger, as Spike began to suck in   
earnest. Drawing the blood from his body, and Xander's free hand   
found its way into soft white hair, tangling in the curls, holding   
the mouth to his wrist. Because it felt...like nothing ever had,   
before. He wondered vaguely if this was what nursing mothers felt.   
The steady suction on his torn wrist tingled up his arm, crawled up   
the back of his neck and ran down his spine in a shiver. Came to   
rest in his cock, which felt each pull, each lap of the tongue, as if   
it was being applied directly...THERE. Xander could feel the moan in   
his throat, wanting to get out. Felt his thighs clench under Spike's   
head. Wished suddenly, savagely, that they were somewhere private,   
alone, not here on bus-stop grass with two girls looking on.

"Xander...I think that's enough. His eyes are open." Willow's hand   
was gentle on his shoulder. He shook his head, not wanting the   
feeling to stop. "No, Xander, enough." She pulled his arm away from   
Spike's mouth, and he blinked away sudden dizziness. Looked down at   
Spike, who was staring up at him, eyes still a little blank, but   
AWARE. 

"Oh, love..." Xander stroked his face with one hand, feeling the   
stolen warmth in his cheek. "Don't DO that to me." 

*****************************

Spike remembered...pain. Pain in his leg, and a ripping, tearing   
agony in his body, and then...Xander running at him with a sword.   
That couldn't be right. And then nothing, until the sweet hot taste   
of blood in his mouth, deliciously, freely given, he could feel it in   
the texture on his tongue. And now he was here, looking up at stars   
and a worried boy, who was holding his head on his lap. There was   
Red, looking terribly concerned. And the Slayer, with banked rage in   
her eyes and her hands in fists. He made a convulsive movement with   
his head, and sank back gasping as pain shot through him again.

"Shh, Spike, it's ok. She knows. I told her. Just relax, I'm not   
gonna let anything happen to you." And somewhere in Spike's mind, he   
was pathetically relieved to hear that. He hadn't felt this bad   
in...well, a very long time. He looked a question up at Xander.

"The demon dropped you when we started in on it. It's gone. Tara's   
going to get the car and more blood for you, so just rest easy."

/More blood. Wonder how much I lost. Wonder how I'll get that swill   
down my throat after tasting Xander./ He let his eyes fall shut   
again, and rested easy.

**********************************

The ride back to Giles' house was made in relative silence. Xander   
sat in back with Willow and Spike and Tara, and if he hadn't had the   
vampire on his lap it would have been crowded. He was bent over his   
lover, still murmuring things too soft for Willow to hear, ignoring   
the tense silence and Giles' worried glances in the mirror. She   
wondered what it looked like, since Spike wouldn't show up,   
obviously. And she worried about the tense set of Xander's head, the   
angry clench of Buffy's jaw, and the fact that Spike seemed to have   
slipped into unconsciousness again, and she could see blood dripping   
down his side. *Huh. That might be Xander's. That is SO weird.*   
They pulled up to the house, and Xander crawled out from under Spike,   
pulling the limp body after him and hauling him into his arms again,   
staggering just a little. 

"Bring him in here." Giles led the way into the living room, cast a   
despairing glance at his leather upholstery, and indicated that   
Xander should put Spike down on the couch. Xander looked exhausted,   
Willow thought, drawn and worried and much too old. She wished Buffy   
could have dealt with this a LITTLE better. 

"Here's the blood, Xan. It's been microwaved." Tara to the rescue,   
looking as beautiful as ever, even with a smear of blood on her face   
and her hair all wild and poofy. Willow stood beside her behind the   
couch, held her tight.

"He saved my life, you know." Spoken quietly, but loud enough that   
Buffy, slumped sullen in a chair, could hear. "The demon grabbed me   
first, and he pulled me away and tossed me far. That's how I got the   
scratch. But I think throwing me made his chip do that zappy thing.   
That's how Slimy got him."

"Well." Giles was kneeling by Xander, examining the gaping   
hole. "We're certainly not going to let him bleed to ashes.   
Especially not on my couch. Here, Xander, bring that blood packet up   
here. You try to get it down him, I'll see if I can find something   
to stitch the wound."

"Giles!" Buffy sounded appalled. "They're...they're...Spike's   
SLEEPING with Xander."

"Yes, Buffy, I gathered that in the car. Now if you don't mind..."   
He brushed past her and headed upstairs to the medicine cabinet.   
Buffy slumped back down, glaring.

"Doesn't anyone else see how WRONG this is? Willow?"

"Shh, not now, Buffy. I think he's finally drinking." All eyes were   
fixed on the white throat, swallowing, supported by Xander's hand.   
Giles came stomping back down the stairs, a huge roll of gauze and   
miles of medical tape in his hands. At Tara's raised eyebrow, he   
shrugged.

"I'm a Watcher, or ex-Watcher, at any rate. With a slayer and   
friends to look after, I've found it pays to be prepared." He gently   
shifted Xander up, and started in on wrapping and taping. Spike   
finished off the bag of blood, and at Xander's glance, Tara went to   
get another. Came back with a bag, and a Coke and some pretzels for   
Xander. 

"You're sup-supposed to eat after giving blood." She handed them to   
him with a firm nod, and retreated to Willow's side. Willow grinned   
at her, and gave her a quick kiss. Now that Spike wasn't bleeding   
any more, the atmosphere was getting much lighter. Xander sat back   
on his heels with a sigh, leaving his hand on Spike's neck.

"I think he's gonna be ok. He's warmer. Thanks, Giles."

"Xander..."

"Not now, Giles, ok? Just...give me a minute." He looked down,   
seeming to notice for the first time that he was barechested and   
covered in blood. "I just wanna get cleaned up." He stood, shakily,   
and wandered up the stairs.

"I gather from your remarkable lack of reaction that you knew about   
this, Willow?" His voice was stern, and Willow ducked her head.

"Just...recently."

"Ah." Dry as dust, his tone, and she squirmed. "Well, what's past   
is past. Now we just have to figure out what to do with...this all."

"I know what to do. We stake him so Xander can get his brain back!"

"Thank you for that extremely helpful input, Buffy, but I really   
don't think that's an option now. Xander's obviously...very   
attached...to Spike, and we have to respect his wishes."

"RESPECT his WISHES? Giles! This is SPIKE."

As if reacting to his name, there was a groan from the couch. 

"Uuuuugh. Xander?"

Giles rolled his eyes and crouched back down by the couch.

"Spike? How are you feeling?"

"Like utter shit, thanks SO much for asking." His eyes were only   
half-open, his head still lolling back on the couch cushions. 

"Well, you're still a bit pale. More pale. Try not to move. You   
just had the last of the blood, so you'll just have to heal with what   
you have."

"Right. I think I can handle the not moving part. Where's Xander?"

"Well, I wanted to speak with you about that, actually..."

"Spike!" The delight in Xander's voice as he came down the stairs   
towelling damp hair brought Giles up short. He trotted over to the   
couch and slid onto the arm. Looked down and smiled. 

"How are you?"

"Shitty. I keep saying that, but I don't think you lot are listening   
to me." But Spike's eyes krinkled a bit as he looked up at Xander.   
Krinkled even more as Xander reached down and ran soft fingers   
through his hair, and then he remembered their audience, and froze.

"It's ok, Spike. They know. Well, kinda."

"Yes, please do enlighten us, Xander. What exactly IS going on   
here?" Giles had his best School Administrator tone on, and Xander   
looked beseechingly at Willow. She smiled at him. 

"Go ahead, Xander. They've figured most of it out."

He squared his shoulders, but kept his hand in Spike's hair.

"Spike and I...we're, well, together."

"Not to sound too terribly juvenile here, but 'duh.' What I really   
want to know is, Xander...is this...well, is it what you want? He IS   
a demon, you know."

"A dead demon." Buffy muttered. "WHAT?" when all eyes swung to   
her. "I'm sorry, but I never even knew Xander was gay, and now he's   
suddenly screwing SPIKE? Spike tried to kill us all, Xander, in case   
you'd forgotten. This is probably just some elaborate game he's   
playing with your head."

Snarl from the couch, though Spike couldn't raise his head yet.

"For your information, Buffy, I went to HIM, not the other way   
around. And we've been together for over a month already, so if he   
was going to play with my head he'd have done it by now." A grunt   
from below. "Well, you would have. You were never so good with the   
waiting, Spike." 

"Oi!"

"A MONTH! Why didn't you tell us, Xander? You could have been in   
danger!"

"I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react just like this. No   
staking Spike, Buffy. I mean it. I'll try to stop you, at least   
till the chip comes out, and then he can do it himself." Willow was   
a little amazed at the firmness of Xander's voice, and Buffy opened   
and closed her mouth a few times, then sank back, defeated. 

"Fine, if that's the way you want it. But if he makes one move   
towards your neck, Xander, all bets are SO off."

"Hear that, Spike? No necking." Spike snorted with laughter, and   
Willow covered her mouth to hold in a giggle, and even Giles cracked   
a smile. Buffy just glared at Spike, and he narrowed blue eyes right   
back at her.

"Right." Giles heaved himself to his feet. "It's been a trying   
evening for us all, and I think we'd all better get some rest. We'll   
worry about the Dirgah tomorrow. Er..." They all stared at Spike.   
At Spike and Xander. Willow rolled that around in her mind a few   
times, and it sounded pretty good. Spike and Xander. 

Xander tugged on white curls. "I think I'll take blondie here home   
with me, if no one objects?" Spike grinned.

Sigh from Giles. "Quite. And I suppose you'll need a ride?"

"I dunno, are you offering?"

"I rather think I am. Gather up your...vampire, there, and let's go."

"I DO have a name, Watcher." Grumbling as Xander propped him up  
to a sitting position, then wincing as he made his wobbly way to his   
feet. 

"As do I...William." Giles arched a meaningful brow at Spike, who   
sneered at him amiably and stumbled to the door, hanging off   
Xander. "Buffy...can you make sure Tara and Willow get home safely?   
It's rather late."

"OK, Giles." Even Buffy sounded a little tired, and made no further   
protest as they all trooped out, locking the house behind them.

**********************

They'd fended off Oz and Devon's shocked offers of assistance, and   
Rick's (the bassist) offer of strong painkillers, and had made it up   
the stairs and to the bedroom. *Feels like forever since this   
morning,* and once again, Xander was stripping Spike. MUCH more   
carefully this time, though.

He urged the vampire to sit on the edge of the bed, and bent to undo   
the laces and buckles on his boots.

"They look bad ass, Spike, but how do you have the patience for this   
every morning? These buckles are almost rusted shut. How old ARE   
these things?"

"Dunno, pet. Older than you, most likely." Spike's smile was   
tired. "An' image is important, or haven't you learned anything yet?"

Snort. "Spike, look at my wardrobe. Well, my ex-wardrobe. Did it   
LOOK like I gave a shit about my appearance?"

"Now that you put it that way..." The second boot fell to the floor,   
leaving Spike barefoot, in jeans and the tattered remnants of his   
shirt. He stared down at it mournfully. "Bloody hell, I LIKED this   
shirt."

"Yeah, well, I like your intact skin better. Here, raise your arm."   
With infinite care, Xander undid the buttons, one by one. Slid one   
sleeve off of Spike, then the other, letting the rags fall around his   
waist. "Spike..." he whispered, trailing a finger down the center   
of that pale, hard chest, stopping when he hit bandage. Shook his   
head, and went to work on the jeans, only a little distracted by the   
fingers that touched his lips, briefly. Buttons undone "You HAD to   
have button-fly, Spike?" "Image, luv, image..." he pulled them   
down, gently sliding over the already-healed leg *must be nice*, slim   
ankles, long feet. Stopped to kiss the arches, one after the other. 

Spike was just sitting still, looking pale and exhausted through the   
smile, so Xander shed his own clothes quickly, and slid one   
leg 'round behind so that he was straddling Spike's hips as he sat.   
Ran gentle hands in long, soothing strokes over smooth shoulders, up   
the neck, down to the sweet spot between shoulder blades, where he   
pressed his thumbs in firmly and smiled at the gasp. Kept the gentle   
massage going until he felt muscles soften to butter under his   
fingers, and Spike's head dropped back to rest on his shoulder with a   
sigh. 

"C'mon. Bedtime for wounded vampires." Gently tugging, he pulled   
said vampire back onto the bed, laid him flat, and started on the   
final step of Making Spike Feel Better. Xander laid a kiss in the   
palm of each small hand, then closed Spike's fingers around them,   
ignoring Spike's questioning look. Trailed butterfly kisses over   
wrists and arms, pausing with delight at the sharp line of collarbone   
and the little hollow at the base of his throat. Sucking a bit at   
the soft skin there, feeling a breath catch in the place below his   
tongue. Xander kissed each nipple, biting gently at each one, and   
pausing, for just a moment, with his mouth just resting in the center   
of Spike's chest. Felt hands come up to hold him there. Just for a   
moment.

"I can't believe you have enough blood in you for that," he half-  
laughed as he pulled back and looked down. 

"Oh, always, pet. Not up for gymnastics tonight though, I'm afraid."

"No, you just lie still. Let Xander take care of everything." With   
a grin, he slid down, and, not wanting to waste time with teasing   
tonight, swallowed Spike whole. Kept his hand pressed against   
Spike's belly, just below the bandage, to hold the buck and thrust he   
knew were coming, and they did, but Xander didn't want Spike hurting   
himself.

"Xanderrr..." Hissed through fangs, and Xander dropped one hand to   
fondle soft balls, rolling them between his fingers as he sucked and   
licked, moving up so only the head got attention. Noted with   
satisfaction that Spike's hands were clenched white around fistfuls   
of sheet. He sucked on the head of Spike's cock like it was a   
lollypop, letting it slide in and out, off his tongue, then swirling   
it around and dropping back down. Spike was panting now, short hard   
breaths, but still hanging on, arching his back and pushing every   
time Xander drew back. *Beautiful, even wounded, even as a vampire,   
and here, and mine.* And Xander let one slick finger slide down   
under, and in, and Spike screamed.

Xander had only tried this a few times, never certain enough of   
technique to know if he was getting it right, and too embarrassed to   
ask. And Spike never requested much in bed, just letting things flow   
most times. But he'd asked Oz, in a spare moment of complete   
humiliation, and gotten a straight *bent* answer, and here he was.   
Pushing in with one finger, then two, crooking them and thrusting,   
and Spike was losing. his. mind. What was left of it, anyway.   
Xander smiled, even as he kept the lick-suck-lick rhythm with his   
mouth, and the push-push-stroke of his fingers, as he watched the   
white body writhe and moan under him. And one final, deep suck, and   
Spike was shuddering and heaving and coming hard, arching his whole   
body off the bed and HOWLING. Xander swallowed, and again, and   
gently slid his fingers out to rest on Spike's thigh, near where his   
head had come to lie.

"C'mere, Xan." Hoarse, tired British voice, and Xander had never   
heard such a tone in it. He eased up Spike's body, careful of the   
bandages, to tuck his head under Spike's chin. The vampire grabbed   
his left hand, brought it to his mouth, kissed the healing slash   
there.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"You...tasted so sweet, Xander. I could have taken too much. It was   
a stupid thing to do."

"I'll never just let you go, Spike."

Sigh.

"I do love you, Xan."

"I love you too."

"I know. It was still stupid."

"Spike, shut up and go to sleep."

"Right. Do we have to talk to the Slayer tomorrow?"

"Yes, Spike. Sleep."

"She's gonna stake me."

"NO, she WON'T. Now SLEEP!"

"Fine then. See how you like fuckin' a pile of ashes."

"Spike..."

"Fine."

Silence.

"Xander?"

"What?"

"I love you."

"I know."


	9. Recess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike dreams. Xander suffers.

Dance for me, he'd said, and she had, long dark hair falling like   
water around her arms, pale talon-hands with their delicate fingers   
moving gently down her own body. A body wrapped in velvet and lace   
and blood...his, hers, some dead person's, who could tell, smelling   
sweet as roses as he drifted. Eyes of moon-dark-night-dreams,   
peering at him, seeing him clean and cold and complete, and he knew   
those eyes, that look, and he was in deep water. Dark and   
unbreathing and fish by his hair, and she was there, she was   
everywhere, and those hands on him now, and the broken song she was   
singing was humming in his bones. Scales crawling over her, one by   
one like tiny devouring teeth, eating away at her porcelain skin,   
scabbing her eyes and mouth and stretching her long, as she wrapped a   
smooth length around his legs. Slithered up his body and he was   
heavy, sinking in the water, the feeling of green and cool and death   
and she was whispering, whispering in his ear, and he turned to meet   
that cold mouth, forked tongue, long-neck-longer-now-impossibly-  
long. There was blood waiting for him.

***********

Xander hadn't realized, before, how carefully Spike had been treating   
him. How much more gently he'd been handled, and he appreciated it   
in retrospect, because if this was the way his lover dealt with the   
rest of the world at large, Xander was honestly surprised that he'd   
lived to be a hundred and twenty-whatever. 

Spike was in A Mood.

It had started that morning, when Xander had opened his eyes to see   
Spike, already dressed, lying in his favorite position, hands behind   
head on his back. Staring at the ceiling. He'd offered a smile and   
a kiss and been met with cold silence. 

"Spike? What's wrong, are you still-"

"I'm fine." Short and clipped, almost forbidding. He'd shrugged and   
gotten out of bed, showered and dressed, and returned to the room to   
see that Spike hadn't moved. 

"OK, I don't think I've EVER seen you sit still that long. And why   
are you awake, anyway? It's barely noon." Spike had   
grunted. "Fine. You don't want to talk, I get that. But what's   
wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Sure. Here, shove over." And he'd crawled right back into bed, and   
curled himself around the still body, and pressed a kiss to the angle   
of Spike's jaw. And even when an arm had curved up around his   
shoulders the way it always did, and Spike unbent enough to kiss him   
back, Xander couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

Now, two hours later, and if Devon didn't snap and rip Spike's head   
off, Xander thought he just might. This went way beyond their normal   
bickering.

"What, and Oz don't care when you bring some chit home an' shag her   
in the shower? I can smell it, mate, all over this dump."

"Like it's your fucking BUSINESS? It's my house, I'll screw whoever   
I want in it, and no, he doesn't care."

"Oh, that's nice, pet. You're a soddin' prince, you are. Got your   
bit at home, warmin' your bed, and your dick in everything that walks   
by..."

Xander was devoutly glad that Oz wasn't home, because he DID care,   
and equally glad that Spike's old-fashioned views on monogamy had   
been historically proven.

"Fuck OFF, Spike! And why do you even fuckin' CARE?"

"I DON'T, I just get a bit sick of smellin' some skank every time I   
walk down the hall."

"NO ONE IS ASKING YOU TO STAY, you SHIT!"

"Guys..." Breaking point had been reached, Xander thought.

"Shut UP." Combined snarls drove him back to the couch. They were   
almost nose-to-nose, now, and if Xander hadn't been so scared, it   
might have been funny.

"I don't stay where I'm not wanted...oh, hang about, yes I do. So   
you want me out? MAKE me." Growling, and game-face, and Devon   
stepped back, shocked. *Forgot what he is, Dev? Because I do that   
sometimes, too...*

The wind seemed to go out of Devon, and he turned to Xander. 

"Keep your pet freak away from me, Xander. I don't wanna see him any   
more. In fact, find him somewhere else to stay." He moved away, and   
stomped up the stairs. There was silence in the living room.

"Great job, Spike." Xander knew it was a bad idea, but the words   
just came out.

"Fuck you, and fuck him. He'll forget about it in an hour." Spike   
turned too, went up the stairs more quietly, and Xander heard the   
door of his room slam shut. No WAY was he going up there now. No,   
he'd just sit here on the couch in the curtains-drawn dimness, and   
worry, and wonder if he'd manage to survive the Interrogate Xander   
Session--oh, wait, the scooby meeting, right, and sometimes he truly   
HATED that name--if Spike didn't dig himself out of whatever hole   
he'd fallen into, sometime before sunset.

*********************

The blood dreams had always fucked with his head, since the chip, and   
adding Drusilla into the mix...well, he'd barely managed to keep from   
tearing into Xander's neck this morning, when he'd smelled all that   
sweet, hot blood, so close to his nose. Remembering the taste in his   
mouth last night. And Devon...he'd been lucky that hadn't   
degenerated into something much worse, something that would have left   
him with a splitting headache and the singer with a limb missing.   
His demon was snarling and yanking on its delicate little electronic   
leash, worse than he could ever remember. It had tasted live blood   
again.

He'd always known, or understood, or something, that the demon was   
him and he was the demon and that somewhere inside him was someone   
else, or at least another facet. Someone informing the demon's   
personality and making Spike who he was, when he wasn't tearing   
people apart with his hands and watching them gurgle and bleed and   
die. Lately, that someone had been making his presence felt more   
strongly. It made sense, he supposed. No feeding, no violence   
unless on the side of--gag--right, and any proper demon would have   
gone into hiding just as his had. But now Spike felt his mouth start   
to water as his mind painted him a vivid picture of Giles, throat   
shredded and empty weeping holes where his eyes had been, Riley   
gutted and screaming on the floor, grabbing for his insides with   
stumps where his hands used to be, and Spike, almost sated but   
wanting more, sinking fangs oh. so. delicately. into the sun-gold   
throat of the Slayer, feeling that incredible power and seductive and   
addictive taste of the richest blood a vampire could ever hope to   
drink, while Xander looked on sobbing with insane--NO. NO.

He threw himself down on the bed, wrestling his mind back into   
someplace resembling normal, feeling the tension ruck his shoulders   
up into knots and tighten his hands into fists. A pull of ache in   
his side where he wasn't quite healed yet, despite three pints of   
blood an' however much Xander had given...quite a bit, from his   
lethargy this morning. Stupid little prat. Stupid, beautiful,   
insane, delicious little...Spike sighed, flipped over onto his   
stomach, and willed himself to relax. If that slut across the hall   
was gonna give him the boot, this might be his last chance to sleep   
in a bed for a while. And he was still healing...

************

"Hey, sleeping undead guy. Wake up. Spike." A voice was pulling at   
him, dragging him out of deep water, and he didn't want to go...mouth   
full of blood, brain on fire, this was where he belonged, who he was,   
not going back to that place where he was weak...he moaned as a hand   
touched him, warm, warmer than his skin. He felt it burn.

"Spike, I'm going out for a job interview. Sun will be down in a few   
hours, so be ready to head out to Giles', ok?" Shaking his shoulder,   
and how dare a mortal touch him without permission? He was snarling   
into something soft, feeling the rage sweep through him from the top   
of his head down his body in one long shudder, coiling him up with   
that sweet familiar tension that screamed to him of an impending   
kill. MOVE and SLAM and teeth against a throat, ready to bite and   
tear and drink and drink and drink and...Spike woke up. Pressed   
against Xander full-body on the floor, but not with desire except for   
the kill. Saw white-ringed brown eyes, smelled terror and confusion   
and pain, and slowly, slowly pulled his fangs out of Xander's skin.   
Right where the shoulder and neck met. That spot he'd kissed a   
thousand times. A few drops welling up, deep red, and Spike couldn't   
help it, he licked his lips. Sweet. Xander was rigid, hands stiff   
against his chest, not breathing, not ANYTHING.

"Oh CHRIST, pet..." He rolled off and stood up, running a hand   
through his hair, not looking at the boy on the floor he'd been SO   
close to draining dry...

"Spike?" Whispered in a dry throat, and Xander hadn't moved.

"Was havin' a dream...you got all caught up in it...Jesus, Xander, I   
never meant..." He crouched down now, willing Xander to believe him,   
reaching out a shaking hand to touch that frightened mouth. /Please,   
pet, know that I wouldn't hurt you.../

"Holy SHIT..." Xander pushed his hand away and sat up, still scared   
but maybe a little angry now, too. "You're killing me in your   
dreams, now, Spike? What the FUCK?"

"No...no. Wasn't killing you, never killing YOU..."

"Great, so you were having a merry little bloodbath in your sleep?   
And as the nearest warm body I was fair game? And why the FUCK isn't   
your chip trying its hardest to kill you right now?" 

They both froze, Xander sitting on the floor, Spike with one hand   
still outstretched. /Oh, sweet hell...could it...would it...is it   
gone?/ Only one way to find out, and Spike wasn't sure he could   
threaten Xander now if he tried. A blur of motion and he was up and   
out the bedroom door, slamming through to Devon and Oz's room, one   
fist cocked and ready to go, seeing Oz's startled face and screaming   
as the pain hit him between the eyes like lightning. 

When he could open his eyes again, Xander and Oz were crouched over   
him, both looking worried and more than a little pissed off.

"Guess it still works, huh?" Xander didn't sound too displeased   
about it, and Spike growled at him weakly, still clutching his   
head. "And way to go for Oz, there, I know he really appreciates it."

"Yeah, man. Very uncool." 

"Definitely. And we are SO going to talk about this little dream   
chip-interference thing, but I've really gotta go to this interview   
if I ever want to start paying rent here. Think you can manage not   
to kill anyone while I'm gone?" Xander wasn't really teasing, and   
the expression in his eyes was...cool. Not the slow burn he was used   
to seeing there, or the laughter...Spike curled into himself even   
further, nodded blindly.

"Yeah."

"Good. Oz, I'm out. See you later. Spike, we're due at the Scooby   
meeting at seven. I'll swing by and pick you up. Don't be asleep,   
ok?"

"Sure."

They stood, stepped over the motionless black-clad figure on the   
floor, and shut the door behind them.

***************

When had this gotten so crazy, Xander wondered as he walked. When   
had things gotten so...INTENSE? He couldn't fool himself that this   
was a normal relationship, never had been able to, from the first   
time those insanely strong hands had grabbed and held him, the first   
time he'd seen the glitter of fangs in that full mouth, the first   
time Spike had tried to bite him while they were fucking. They'd   
never discussed it, the way the vampire would mouth his neck   
desperately as he came, the way little pains would sometimes jerk him   
rigid when they were kissing, betraying his thoughts. He hadn't been   
moony enough to ignore it completely, though. But this was   
different; Spike had HURT him, had bitten him and not in passion, and   
Xander...Xander was ready to forgive him for it as easily as he had   
anything else. 

When had Spike become...everything? Was it the first time Xander had   
looked up from the TV to notice that there was a PERSON in his   
basement with him, cursing and smoking and laughing at his jokes?   
That had come early, during the Anya-days. It was as if an audible   
CLICK had sounded in his brain, and Spike wasn't The Annoying Enemy   
any more, he was a person. Just like Xander. Well, ok, better   
looking, much, and sharper teeth and wildly different diet, but not   
just a mindless thing. Funny sometimes, and sad other times, and   
hungry and horny and snarky and smart and mean. And Xander SAW him.   
Saw him more clearly every day, until the wanting was so strong it   
drove him out of warm human arms and into this insanity. 

*OK, he's a vampire. Maybe not a good idea to forget that anymore.   
Ever. But he's still Spike, and he's still MINE, and I don't wanna   
lose him. REALLY don't wanna lose him. Can't. So, fine, go to this   
interview and go home and be Mr. Forgiveness Man, and maybe we can   
look into the biting in a less-scary way. Later. Because damn did   
it feel good last night...*

But when he got back, Spike was gone.

*************

Xander was a little white at the lips when he stepped through the   
door at Giles', and Willow didn't like the set to his shoulders.   
She'd been bickering with Buffy about dorm assignments or something,   
but of course, everyone got quiet when the reason for the meeting   
came in.

Xander didn't say anything, just looked at them all. Buffy in   
Riley's lap in the big chair. Giles standing by the kitchen. Willow   
and Tara on the couch, and Willow scootching over to give him   
room...he shot her a grateful smile, sat down, and sighed.

"OK, guess we should get this over with." He braced himself, she   
could feel it.

Surprisingly enough, Giles spoke first, cutting off Buffy before the   
first syllable.

"Xander...we know you're a grown man, and fully capable of making   
your own decisions. But as your friends we're concerned, and we want   
to make sure that, well...that you're safe, and happy. So please   
understand, we do not mean to interfere. But your choice in partners   
is...unusual. And we do worry. Spike is a vampire, after all, and   
he HAS betrayed us. More than once."

"I know he has." Nothing more.

"He's a DEMON, Xander." Riley, there, speaking up for the first   
time, but he really did look concerned.

"I KNOW that, Riley. The fangs and the blood-drinking tipped me off,   
believe it or not. And really, not the issue here, I'm thinking. I   
mean, Buffy dated a demon-"

"Angel was GOOD!-" she broke off under his glare.

"-and Anya was an ex-demon who tortured men for centuries-"

"Key word being 'ex'" Buffy muttered.

"-and I mean, come on, we're on the HELLMOUTH here! Who ELSE am I   
gonna find to date?"

"Is THAT what this is about? Because I know plenty of...guys...that   
I could set you up with." Buffy leaned forward eagerly. "Nice   
normal nondemony guys...and girls. Do you still date girls?" A   
little frown between her eyes, and Xander had never looked more   
exasperated in his life, that Willow could recall.

"I don't date ANYONE! I'm in LOVE, and Spike loves me back, and   
neither of us are dating other people." Willow hoped that she was   
the only person who heard the tremor in his voice when he said the   
vampire's name. Something had happened, and she and Xander were   
gonna have a chat after this. He looked miserable, under the resolve.

"Demons can't love, Xander." Buffy's voice was stern, and Xander   
exploded up off the couch. 

"BULLshit! Did you SEE Drusilla and Spike together? They loved each   
other, and it was real. And Angel loves, and if you think that's   
just a soul you're nuts. And Doyle, remember hearing about Doyle?   
You think he didn't love?" He was panting now. "Spike LOVES me, he   
does, and he makes me happy, and we're together, and that's IT!" He   
stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

Silence. Broken, so unexpectedly, by Tara.

"I th-thought we said Buffy wasn't gonna talk?"

Giles sighed.

**************

Willow caught up with him a block away, like he knew she would.   
*Remind me to tell you later how much I love you, Wills...* He was   
wandering, hands deep in his pockets, and didn't look at her.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah."

"Buffy really does care, you know. She's just...her worldview's a   
little narrow, y'know? I think it's her job."

"I know. But JESUS."

"I know, it was hard, huh?"

"You have no idea."

"Where WAS Spike, anyway? I didn't think he'd leave you alone to   
face that...thought he'd be all...GRRR, and 'Back off you wankers,'   
and 'No one says that to my Xander!'" Xander grinned a little, but   
it fell away fast.

"He's...not here."

"What do you mean? Oh, he's still hurt from last night?"

"No, he's gone."

"Gone where?" Willow was honestly puzzled. She'd seen the way the   
vampire had looked at Xander, and her mind was just not wrapping   
around 'gone.'

"I dunno. Away. We had a...thing, today. Not really a fight. I   
don't know. He left."

"Well, did he leave a note?"

Snort. "Wills, this is SPIKE. He could have discovered the treasure   
of the Sierra Madres, or gone off to Timbuktu, or just be around the   
corner getting smokes, but he'd never leave a note."

"We don't need no steenkin' badges..." Willow growled. Still trying   
to figure out 'gone.'

"Heh. Yeah. Very Spike." There was a quiver behind his laughter,   
though, and she pulled him into a quick, fierce hug. 

"Oh, Xander, he'll come back. I know he will. He loves you!"

"Right. In that demony way." Xander had his face buried in her   
hair, and she could feel the tears dampening it, though he was still   
so quiet. "Oh, Wills, what if he doesn't?"

"He will. I KNOW he will. Who could resist you?" And he was   
laughing at her, but everything wasn't ok.

***********

Six days, and Xander had moved past angry and into numb. Spike   
wasn't coming back. He worked every day, processing film at the   
local FotoMart, coming home smelling of chemicals and falling into an   
empty bed to sleep soddenly for hours. He'd stopped pocketing extra   
copies of the funnier pictures to show to Spike after day three. He   
listened to music and watched tv with Devon and Oz, and replied when   
spoken to. He accepted Buffy's stammering apology and Giles' wary   
smile with a nod. Willow took him out to dinner, and it gave him   
something to do besides sit and stare at dark blue sheets and the   
empty cigarette box that still sat on the lampstand. He laughed at   
Tara's jokes. And went home and cried, quietly, so that Oz wouldn't   
hear and come in and try to help again.

Seven days.

Eight. He threw up lunch after a bleached-out punk in black leather   
came in to drop off a roll of film. Wiped his mouth and told himself   
to GROW. UP.

Nine. This long into it, he'd usually stopped hurting so much, in   
the past. Nope. Not this time.

Day ten was a Saturday, and he spent it in bed.

*Spike. Come back. Oh, please....*


	10. Student Teacher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike's back. Xander's torn.

When the chime over the door rang, that annoying brassy tinkling  
sound, Xander looked up wearily. Seemed he was doing everything  
wearily these days, like he was sixty or something, he thought, and  
smiled a little. Wearily.

"Xander!" His mind snapped back to HERE, reluctantly, and the smile  
got real.

"Hey, Willow. More Wicca-film for me? Didja get me any shots  
of...spells, this time?" He was grinning, she was blushing, and he  
loved that he could still make her fidget. The slanting late  
afternoon sun was shining through the big picture windows at the  
front of the store, backlighting her, and he could barely see that  
her hands were clasped nervously.

"NO, Xander. I know what you people do with the pictures, and thanks  
for THAT information by the way, since I'm never ever getting film  
developed in one of these places again." Still blushing. He'd told  
her about the Keepers Drawer he and the other guys had going.

"C'mon...you'd make me a hero here! You're the one who's always  
telling me I should try to be successful in the workplace..." _*And  
Willow and Tara shots would get me free lunch for a WEEK, at least.*_

"Xanderrrr...." And he relented.

"Oh, ok. No pictures. What's up?"

"Can we...talk?" Her fingers were actually twisting together, he  
saw. Uh-oh. Sign of the not-good.

"Um...sure? I'm off in about two hours, that ok?"

"Well...it's gonna be DARK in two hours, Xander. I kind of need to  
talk to you now. You know, in the immediate, here, right-away way."

He took a closer look. Green eyes wide, cheeks still a little  
flushed, and DEFINITELY nervous about something.

"OK, hang on. Let me get somebody to cover the desk." He moved off  
into the back, hollered for Jake, pulled off his FotoMat hat _*and the  
boss will never hear the song we made up about these hats...*_ and  
followed her out the door. Chiming. Sometimes he thought he could  
hear that fucking sound in his dreams. Usually just before Spike  
came strolling in and stripped him naked on the counter...Stop.  
Willow problems. _*Focus, Xander. He is NOT coming back.*_ Forced  
himself to stretch in the sun, put supportive-face on, smile at  
Willow again...

"Spike's back." And her words hit him so hard he had to sit down,  
sudden and graceless, on one of the parking dividers.

"I'm...WHAT?" He looked up at her, knowing his eyes were as big as  
hers had been, begging her to clarify, explain, make sense...

"Tara saw him last night. By the park. She...she said he was  
creeping around, and he went into a sewer tunnel. Xander..." She  
stood in front of him, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

"He's...here?" Xander knew, KNEW he was sounding like an idiot, but  
he didn't know how to fix it. Spike was here. Here, but not back.  
Here, but not with him. Huh. When his heart quit sucking itself  
into the giant ache that was where his chest used to be, maybe he'd  
be able to take the time to understand that. Here, but not. Not  
back. Not.

"Um...Tara said he looked...really thin. Like, famine-thin." He  
must have looked appalled, because she hastily added, "Though she WAS  
kind of far away, and walking, and really she might need glasses,  
we've been talking about it and everything..." He couldn't say  
anything, just kept staring at her. "Xander...that might be a GOOD  
thing. Maybe he's, y'know, pining away for you." She offered a  
hopeful little smile. He shook his head, then his whole body, like a  
dog shedding water. Stood up.

"No, I doubt it. Spike was never big with the self-denial. But  
thanks for the thought, Wills. I'm, ah, gonna go back to work. Duty  
calls, and the critical, planet-saving work at a FotoMart is never  
done..." He was backing away from her. He'd cried on her shoulder  
enough in the past two weeks, it was getting absurd, and even best  
friends shouldn't have to put up with this level of self-pity. He  
plastered on a smile.

"I'm ok, really. I mean, I knew he'd probably be back eventually,  
and hey, no one likes to run into the ex around town, but I'll be  
fine. Really. Thanks for telling me, though, the warning is most  
definitely appreciated."

He turned and almost ran back into the  
store. Stopped just inside the door, wiped sweating palms on his  
jeans, made himself stop shaking. _*Yeah, Xand, real manly there.  
SURE you're ok. Now buck up, little camper...you've got three rolls  
of Mrs. Bergstrom's my-kid-went-to-band-camp-and-took-his-camera film  
to develop.*_

************

Spike was beginning to think that starving the demon into submission  
hadn't maybe been the best idea of his long unlife. But shit, he'd  
figured that the blood set the soddin' thing off in the first place,  
so a lack would logically send it back howlin' into its little  
cage. /Right, wanker, conveniently forgot we share a BODY with it,  
did we?/ Fuck. Fuck AND fuck, he was so hungry. He'd found a nice  
warm hole in the sewers, tucked himself into it right an' tight with  
a bottle or three of JD /purchased with the last of your dosh, so you  
can't buy blood any road/ and some magazines to keep him busy, and  
settled in to wait. He'd made it four days before the boredom had  
brought the hallucinations on, or maybe that was the hunger, but the  
third time a laughing giant Xander had tried to eat his head, he'd  
gone scrambling out into the tunnels, looking for something,  
ANYTHING, to do. Dodging the occasional scent of Slayer or demon of  
the nastier sort, kicking hell out of some of the less-nasty sort--he  
wasn't at full strength, after all--basically wandering through the  
sewers like the giant lovesick ninny he'd become.

Fuck, he hated sewers. Always had. This one was cleaner than most /must be all the  
traffic keeps it clear, and ain't that a funny thought?/ and much  
larger than Sunnydale really needed. Merry fuckin' Hellmouth an' all  
it entailed. Lovely. An' all he wanted, ALL he wanted, was to go  
running back to his boy. Felt his brain buzz a bit at the thought,  
his muscles tighten, and that place where his heart used to be grab a  
bit at him. No tears, though, not since the last bottle of Jack had  
gone down too smooth and left him with nothing at all.

He scoffed, from his seat on a mostly-slimeless ledge somewhere under  
City Hall. /Your boy, right, as if he'd take you back after you  
tryin' to make a meal out of him. He's not yours any more, you  
stupid git, though you MIGHT be able to get him back if you stop  
whinging about an' get your head straight. Which you are NOT  
currently doing./

Because the grand starvation plan wasn't working.  
The dreams were stronger now, the craving deep in his belly pulling  
at him all the time, making his mouth water and his fangs drop and he  
barely had any control over his gameface any more. It was the  
hunger. That almost-starving vampire drive that had driven some  
vamps of his /brief/ acquaintance out into sunlight--soddin'  
SUNLIGHT!--to get blood. He'd thought he'd have more time, but this  
wasn't working at ALL.

So, time to eat. He stood up, suddenly, eagerly. Doubtful that his  
Xan had kept any blood on hand. /Probably chucked it in relief when  
you scarpered off.../ Watcher's, then, since he was still utterly  
skint, and best hope that his name wasn't TOO black 'round those  
parts...

**************

"You son of a BITCH." He'd expected almost anything, but up against  
a wall with a stake to his chest, and Red, RED, on the other end of  
it, hadn't been in the game plan. An' oh boy, did she look ticked.  
He didn't half think he'd be dust here, in a moment. He'd peeked his  
head in the door, smelled her there, an' Rupert too upstairs, but no  
Xander, and he'd almost breathed in relief. No way in hell was he  
ready for that yet.

Stepped in with a swagger an' a grin, always  
bluffing, that was him all right, and said a cheerful hallo to all  
and sundry. Only to end up with his back against the door and a  
cranky witch at his throat in a heartbeat, with nary a word of babble  
in sight. Didn't think he'd ever heard her curse before, either.

"What's all this then, pet? Got a bit of Slayer-envy, have we?" If  
he could make her laugh he might just be all right, here...He could  
feel in his bones, he didn't even have the strength to push her off.  
So he stood, as still as possible, and tried not to think about the  
years of practice she'd had at just this.

"You BASTARD, I TOLD you I'd stake you if you hurt him, I TOLD  
you..." Were those tears in her eyes? What was this about?

"Er...Red? Witch? Mind movin' that stake JUST a bit, there's a  
luv..." He gently pushed it away from his chest, to the side, and  
prayed the Watcher wouldn't come down just now. "Now, what's this?  
I barely nicked the whelp, couldn't 'ave hurt him more than he gets  
on a regular right roamin' around with you lot..." He cocked his  
head. /The 'tell me, don't stake me' look, patent pending by William  
the Bloody Idiot.../

"How could you leave him alone like that? It's been two WEEKS,  
Spike!" And if she wasn't actively threatening his unlife now, that  
rage was still there. Kitten with cubs of her own, an' all pricklin'  
up to defend 'em...wait, WHAT?

"Er, Willow luv, don't know if he mentioned this, but I BIT him.  
Fangs an' all. Can't think he's too broken up about my extended  
absence, somehow."

"OH, for...SPIKE! You are an IDIOT!" She threw up her hands and  
stomped away, and if he'd still needed air he would have breathed  
into he sudden space.

"What d'you mean? Not that I'm agreein', mind, but a little  
explanation before the name-slinging starts?"

"No. No explanation for you. You are such...a GUY. A guy-y guy  
with stupid guy thoughts. Go see Xander, now, and you'd better beg  
and plead and be REALLY nice, or I swear I WILL stake you. Or...or  
maybe turn you into a snake, I haven't decided." She was still  
glaring at him, though from a slightly more comfortable distance.

He was truly baffled. One word in three was sinking into his  
admittedly tiny mind, though, and...

"He's mad 'cos I LEFT?"

"Just go, Spike. Get out of here before Giles sees you. None of  
them know you've been gone, Xander's been covering your hiney, so  
GO."

"Right, pet. Ta. Oh, wait, Watcher wouldn't happen to have any  
spare blood lyin' about, would he?" Xander or no, he didn't think  
he'd make it across town without something...

"You DO look awful, Tara was right. I can see all your bones.  
Fridge, then go. And I'm calling Xander first thing tomorrow, and if  
you didn't play nice..." She waved the stake at him, and grrrred,  
and he felt the first real smile in two weeks on his face.

************

There was only so much Playstation that Xander could sanely be  
involved in, before wanting to rip his eyes out of his head from the  
intense concentration. ADD for sure, maybe those counselors had been  
on to something, back in school. But he didn't mind hanging around  
while Devon and Rick played; they were both very good, and it was  
kind of like watching a movie.

Or so he told himself while the TV  
was being monopolized for hours by obsessed stoners with too much  
time on their hands. Tekken, Mortal Kombat, they had 'em all, and  
Xander got kind of a kick out of the realization that the monsters in  
the game weren't any worse than some of the things he'd seen in real  
life. Anyway, he was able to sink himself into the action when he  
wasn't playing, so he didn't even look up when he heard the front  
door slam. Probably Oz, back from the store.

"Xander?"

Nope, couldn't be. He refused to look up, even when Devon cursed  
softly and paused the game.

"Xan..." That damned British voice, pitched low, uncertain? He  
glanced up quick, under his eyelashes, and down again. Spike looked  
thin. Really thin. * _Guess Tara doesn't need those glasses after  
all...*_ And he was standing in the door, not moving, no swagger or  
smirk, just standing. Looking at the three of them on the couch.  
Devon was still cursing, though he wasn't moving, and he'd leaned up  
against Xander's side. For all his assholic tendencies, Devon could  
be quite the sweetie when he put his mind to it...and Xander knew he  
was avoiding the issue.

"Spike." And just saying that name, with its owner in the room,  
broke something loose inside him and he bolted off the couch, almost  
tripping on the video game console, and sprinted up the stairs. Had  
this strange driving need to get OUT. He slammed the door behind him  
and sat on the bed, listening to raised voices but unable to make out  
the words. Felt a fleeting moment of pity for Rick. _*Ah, Dev, my  
very own white knight, and why can't I decide if I want you to let  
him come up or not?*_ The decision was taken out of his hands, or  
wishes, or whatever, when he saw the doorknob turn. Pale, slim  
figure slipping through, to stand in front of him. He wouldn't look  
up, or he knew he'd fall apart.

"Pet..."

"Don't call me that." And he hadn't known his voice could be so hard.

"All right. Xander then." No more words for a bit, and he found  
himself staring at slim white hands, hanging loosely. He could  
almost count the bones in them. Where had Spike been, that he  
couldn't get blood? And why the fuck was his mind constantly  
fixating on these tiny meaningless things?

"I, er, had a bit of a chat with your Red today." Xander sat  
still. "She, ah, mentioned that you might be a bit, well, upset,  
that I'd gone off, an' all." More silence. Spike had needed Willow  
to tell him the obvious WHY, exactly? And why the hell was he  
back? "Pe--Xander, I just thought, after the whole biting thing..."  
Spike's voice trailed off to nothing, and Xander thought it might be  
his turn now.

"Two weeks, Spike." _*And don't make me tell you about those weeks,  
because I never will and neither will Willow, if she wants to stay my  
friend...*_

"I know...was tryin' to get the demon under control, y'see."

"What?" Xander's head snapped up then before he could think, and  
blue eyes framed in thick black lashes, staring at him, and he'd  
never seen anything like that expression in them, never...he was  
caught and he knew it. Drowning. Such a perfect blue...

"Well, don't know if I quite understand it, m'self...seems the dreams  
were getting a bit too real. Couldn't take the chance that I'd drain  
you dry in your sleep, could I. So I found me a posh bit of sewer  
an' holed up...Xander, you didn't think I'd GONE?" Horrified voice,  
and a hand reaching out, and he avoided it because _*that way lies  
pain*_ and _*never again.*_ The hand dropped.

And Xander had to fight off the insane urge to giggle. How many  
times had he played this scene out in his head? The begging vampire,  
the stoic yet eventually forgiving and magnanimous Xander, the  
sex...but now, he couldn't stop remembering that Spike had left him.  
And Spike had promised him he'd never leave.

"You didn't even leave a note." He couldn't tell if it was the  
giggles or something else making his voice hurt so much on the words.

"Well, I'd just about had a morning snack of you, right? An' you  
none too pleased about it. Didn't think you'd fret yourself over it  
much. Oh, bleedin' hell, Xander..." The hand reached out again, and  
suddenly Xander was FURIOUS.

"You LEFT!" He came up off the bed and shoved Spike as hard as he  
could, and was taken completely aback when the vampire FLEW across  
the room to hit the wall hard. It had been like striking...air.  
There was nothing to him. Under all that leather and denim,  
nothing...but he still had the anger, and Xander had to get it out.

"You left me, you shit. Left me here, and do you KNOW what it was  
like, after that stupid meeting, making everyone believe that oh,  
yeah, things were just great in Spike and Xander land? After my  
great dramatic declaration of mutual devotion, in front of everyone,  
what was I gonna do? Walk in the next day and tell them all, 'by the  
way, remember that love bullshit I was spouting last night? Well,  
looks like maybe you were right about that, since my LOVER took OFF  
without a WORD'? FUCK you, Spike." He was gasping now, could feel  
his whole body shaking. "And every night, coming back to that STUPID  
bed and sleeping in it alone and wondering where the hell you were  
and how I could be SUCH an idiot to believe you? DO YOU FUCKING  
KNOW?" He breathed, finally. Waited.

Spike was frozen against the wall, face a mask. Hands clenched  
around the edges of his coat the only indication of panic.

"No, I didn't know. I am so sorry, Xander...please..." His voice  
was so soft, Xander had to strain to hear. "Thought you wanted me  
gone. Thought I had to go, to keep you safe. I'd never have left  
you otherwise, love." Not 'luv', not 'pet'. The word. Love. And  
all the rage went out of Xander in a rush, and he sagged back onto  
the bed.

"You should have told me."

"Yeah. Regret that, now."

"I'll bet." He found himself smiling, just a little. This was just  
so insane. Saw an answering glint in blue eyes that were still  
locked with his own. Xander had to know. "Spike...why haven't you  
been eating? I can almost see through you."

Nonchalant shrug from across the way. "Sewer's a bad place for fine  
dining, innit."

"That's not it...you could have raided Willy's or scared some  
tourists, if you were hungry. Why are you so thin?"

"Didn't feel like eating. That's all." _*Sure, Spike. You WILL give  
me an answer someday. Oh, shit, does that mean there's gonna BE a  
someday?*_

"So...what now?" _*Are you back? For good? Because I don't think  
I'll make it through you leaving again. Undead jerk.*_

"Dunno. Up to you, really." /Please take me back, please, I've been  
so soddin' lonely without you.../

"Think you might hang around aboveground for a while?" _*Do you want  
me? Do you love me even a little bit?*_

"Thought I might do, yeah." /I love you so much it hurts, with your  
big eyes and sweet mouth and don't you DARE cry, luv.../

"Th-think you maybe need a place to stay?" _*OK, that hitch in the  
voice is not good, and he's gonna laugh his way back to his crypt  
now.*_

"Maybe. You offering?"

Silence. Staring. Sudden acknowledgement of stiff-necked vampire  
pride.

"Yeah." Soft voice, almost a whisper. "Guess I am, yeah."

And Spike was back across the room and in his arms, and light as a  
feather and not strong at all, because Xander braced under him and  
Spike ended up in his lap, laughing.

"Pet, oh gods..." Xander could feel the tears in his eyes, hot and  
heavy, but they went completely unnoticed when a cool mouth finally,  
delicately brushed against his own. A sweet little kiss, and long  
fingers brushing through his hair so gently, twining in the curls and  
pulling just a little, bringing his mouth down closer. Tongue in his  
mouth, now, brushing at his own, touching the ticklish place on the  
roof, finally sliding slickly in to make the kiss deeper.

Xander found his own hands pulling at leather and dropping it on the floor,  
felt them fumbling and then YANKING at buttons and jeans because  
sweet Jesus it had been so long and this taste was making him hard  
against the body across his thighs, and then soft skin on his  
fingertips. And bone under.

"Good lord, Spike, what the hell HAPPENED to you?" He broke away  
from the kiss, evaded the following mouth, stared down at Spike's  
pale hide, stretched taut over bone and not much more. Ran a gentle  
finger up the bumps of ribs, the blade of collarbone almost painfully  
sharp now, let his other hand cup a jutting hipbone. The dark size  
of it a startling contrast to the slim white frame, and he spread his  
fingers, and spanned Spike's pelvis. Pinky on one hipbone, thumb on  
the other, the heavy hardness between the only thing unchanged, and  
Spike was just staring at him stubbornly.

"Fine. Don't tell me. But you're gonna eat something as soon  
as..." He blushed, and Spike smirked, because Xander's hand was  
still stroking the side of his neck, still soft and a bit uncertain.  
Hitched himself off Xander's lap, and lay sprawled on the bed at his  
side.

"Had a bit, at our Rupert's. C'mere, pet. Got somethin' for you to  
take care of." And Spike pulled him down.

Xander hadn't really thought about things getting this far, hadn't  
dared to, but if he had, he wouldn't have imagined this long, slow  
sweetness. Just laying on his side, one arm wrapped around a slim  
waist, pressed full-body but moving nothing but his mouth for  
minutes, feeling lips firm and full against his own. And catching  
the shift in muscle under his hand when Spike angled his head to keep  
their noses from bumping, and his fingers were tingling from the feel  
of all that delicious skin, like cool satin and he couldn't stop  
stroking, and he didn't quite believe this was happening. Surely it  
was another dream?

He was tasting Spike, though, musk and spice and  
no trace of copper anywhere, reveling in the slide and slick of  
muscle in his mouth. And feeling the delicate movements as he  
finally, finally slid a leg between Xander's denim-clad ones and  
pushed one bare knee up into his crotch and started with that little  
rocking motion that he KNEW drove Xander nuts. Xander held him  
harder, moaned into his mouth, couldn't help it. Flipped onto his  
back, pulling Spike with him, feeling birdlike lightness and grasping  
hands and a mouth that was pulling harder on his own with every  
second.

He was out of his clothes in moments and then...ah. Long naked body  
against his own, finally soothing the ache that had been with him for  
weeks now, that feeling that his skin really didn't end where it  
seemed to, that there was MORE, and it was missing. He lifted his  
knees, settled Spike between them more firmly, and wrapped his legs  
around the vampire's back. Held that clever tongue lightly between  
square human teeth, nibbling, seeing the spark and flare in Spike's  
eyes, feeling a hard cock settle against his own and yeah, this was  
where he wanted to be.

**************

This had really been far too easy. Spike knew life, or unlife, and  
had handled all it had tossed at him, and would've been waiting for  
the other shoe to drop if he'd been able to think at all. But there  
were teeth holding his tongue, and big hands behind him pulling him  
hard into a warm body, and skin soft as peaches rubbing all over him,  
and dark curls wrapped around his hands, so no, he wasn't thinkin'  
too hard, just at the moment. He was smiling, though, around the  
kiss, and felt the answering quirk of lips.

"Missed you, pet."

"Missed you too, Spike. Don't go away again, 'kay?" Weeks of  
vulnerability in that voice, an' if Spike could have reached, he'd  
have kicked himself right in the arse.

"Never. Swear." And sealed it with a kiss, again. The fact that  
he'd said that before was not mentioned, and Spike was grateful. And  
HORNY, and fuck it had been a long time. He felt his hips pushing at  
Xander's, felt the body under him meet his rocking and send it back,  
and suddenly he just couldn't wait any more.

"Need...Xander, please?" Big and Bad always lost out to love, and  
this was no exception. He knew he was begging with his eyes, his  
hands, his mouth. Xander nodded mutely, staring up at him with those  
big brown-gold eyes, smiling a little but pupils wide and very  
serious. /Better get this right, git...this is your one shot back./  
He cupped the long face between his palms.

"I love you, pet. Wasn't happy without you, cried in my bourbon like  
a soddin' chit, generally did the pathetic heartbroken routine  
all 'round. Take me back?" He stopped moving, waited for the  
answer, and found that he was holding in a breath. /Idiot./ Xander  
kept LOOKING at him. Seeing him, like no other mortal ever had.

"Yeah. You can come back. I love you too, moron." And they were  
both laughing now with the relief, and all the tentative touches were  
gone, because Spike was just DRIVING his cock down into the slick  
hollow beside Xander's hipbone, so hard it almost hurt, and the boy  
was arching up to meet him and keening through his teeth, and  
grabbing Spike's arms hard and bracing himself. Moaned a little and  
pulled his knees under him when Spike got a hand under his shoulder  
and flipped him in one quick movement, pushing his hips up and back  
and arching his spine almost obscenely and chanting his name when  
Spike draped himself over his back and slid his cock between smooth  
lower cheeks and just let it move, forward and back, forward and  
back, barely touching Xander's balls with the tip on every thrust.

This was hotter than hot, this was burning him, and he was almost  
desperate when he found his mouth closing over a smooth nape /don't  
scare the boy don't scare the boy/ but Xander bent his head and  
pushed up into his mouth and he found his teeth worrying at soft soft  
skin and he could feel the blood rushing by underneath. Couldn't  
hear what Xander was saying for a minute, under that hissing song.

"S'okay Spike...bite me...I LIKED it...please please please..."

Spike almost fell off him with the shock, actually felt himself get  
less hard and he hadn't thought the Hellmouth opening under the bed  
would have done that.

"Pet...I can't...you KNOW that." He was just lying still, now.

"Try. It felt so good, when you were hurt. You don't even KNOW..."  
And that breathy little voice convinced him. Fuck the chip, if he  
got fried they could always pick this up later. Xander had taken him  
back, after all. And he WAS hungry, an' since starving hadn't worked  
maybe a bit of blood would set things right with all his various  
personalities. Spike chuckled. He'd watched somethin' on Lifetime,  
once...

He let his fangs slide into his mouth, felt the ridges rise on his  
forehead, and knew his eyes were yellow. OH. so. carefully. nibbled,  
where his teeth had been before, his hands holding hard to Xander's  
sides. No pain. Felt the boy gasp under him as he bit down just a  
bit more, delicate skin parting like butter, the first tang of blood  
in his mouth, better than whiskey, better than anything, and he was  
lapping at the holes like a big cat, latching on to suck and holding  
Xander against the long shudders that were just wracking him.  
Remembered what it was like to be bitten in heat, and smiled a  
little, through the dizziness the thick hot sweetness in his mouth  
was building behind his eyes. Pulled away, long before he was ready.

"Good, Xan?" His voice had smoothed out with the drink, for all he  
was careful not to take too much. Xander mutely nodded, forehead  
resting against the bedspread, still up on his knees. Spike reached  
around, slid searching fingers over long hardness, VERY hard  
actually, and smirked. /Good, right, now let's get ON.../

He dropped a kiss on the already-healing punctures, kept his hand where  
it was, and reached over to the bedside table. Raised a brow when he  
saw the empty pack of fags under the lamp, but found the lube in the  
drawer, right where he remembered it, tore the cap off with his teeth  
and slicked himself with three hard, fast strokes...clenched his jaw  
to keep from coming right then, just from the touch an' the sight of  
the naked body under his, all spread out like a buffet. His for the  
taking, motionless in anticipation but quivering, just a bit.  
Jerking in startlement when he touched a slippery finger to the base  
of his tailbone, and dragged it down, into the crease and touching  
that sweet little hole, dipping a fingertip in and just letting it  
rest there. Let Xander get used to feeling him again, and wished for  
a moment he could see his face...moving then, sliding the finger in  
smoothly, crooking it to get that buck-and-jump he knew so well, then  
two, and Xander was TIGHT and hot and when he spread his fingers he  
got a moan that was almost, almost a scream.

He pulled out finally, ignoring the little whimper he heard and the  
whining "Spiiiiike...", poured on more lube and nudged himself into  
place, because he could NOT wait another minute. Sod foreplay.  
Could feel the hot pressure in his groin, running like fire down to  
his fingertips and up behind his eyes, as he eased himself in and  
felt Xander pushing back and wanting more and oh FUCK he was tight  
and this was perfect and he really didn't think he ever wanted to  
leave. Sliding in to the root and frozen for a second with the blood-  
hot grip around his cock and he was maybe blind, but that didn't  
matter because he was MOVING, and Xander was moving just as hard, and  
it had been a really really long fuckin' time and he was a bigger git  
than he'd even thought.

"Not gonna last Xander not gonna..." And the reach around because he  
wanted to feel his boy coming, and one pull, two, and Xander was  
screaming into the sheets, no almost about it, and Spike was  
following him down and the world was on fire.

**********

Xander was tracing ribs. One by one, in their high arch over the  
concavity of a scarily hollow stomach, as Spike lay flung in a sated  
sprawl across the rumpled sheets. Funny how such a small person  
could take up so much space, since Xander was exiled to a sliver of  
mattress, tucked against his lover's side. Considering he now  
outweighed Spike by at least thirty-five pounds, he didn't quite see  
the fairness there. But Spike was blinking happily and sleepily at  
him _*haven't been getting much sleep either, have you?*_ and pulling  
his head down to rest on a smooth pale shoulder "OW! Spike, you're  
all bones! C'mere," and letting himself get yanked half on top of  
Xander, so the pillow position was the other way 'round. He was  
getting little butterfly kisses placed in the hollow of his throat,  
and slim fingers were twining with his own, and as he drifted off to  
sleep, Xander figured that overall, today would be one for the 'good'  
column. Space-hogging anorexic vampire boyfriend most definitely  
included.


	11. Final Exams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys get it on.

Afterwards, Xander was never quite sure HOW it had happened. Oh,  
sure, they'd been building up to it for a long time. Devon threw  
smirks every time he and Spike disappeared for a while, but always  
seemed to wander into the room they'd escaped to, and never really  
apologized for interrupting. And Oz, with his strange fascination  
with Spike's hair, which apparently inspired him to reach out and  
touch every time he thought he wouldn't get smacked for his pains.

Which wasn't often, but still. They'd all watch tv together, Spike  
bitching about cold blood and Devon shouting at him to shut the fuck  
up right now, thank you, and Oz curling by Xander because he fit so  
well into the curve of Xander's arm, and Xander would get a little  
tingle and wonder if maybe this was the day. But Spike always jumped  
up off of Devon after wrestling him to the floor, and Oz always went  
to the fridge to get water or a beer, and it never quite crossed that  
line.

Maybe they were afraid of messing up the strange domesticity  
of their house. It was really startling, how well they were getting  
along. Xander worked. Oz and Devon rehearsed and laid around and  
lived off Oz's trust fund. Spike beat up demons and bickered with  
Devon and let Xander buy him things. They threw parties. The sex  
was amazing, if his own experiences and the sounds coming from across  
the hall were any indication. Even Buffy was relaxing, and went so  
far as to tease Spike for holding Xander's hand on patrol one night.

So, equilibrium, and a pretty damn happy one. But still, sometimes,  
when he was watching Oz nibble on Devon's ear in the kitchen, or saw  
Spike batting irritably at Oz's fingers when they twined in his hair,  
or noticed Devon strutting out the door on his way to some club, he  
wondered what it would be like.

He'd asked Spike once, lying sated in the late afternoon, Spike's  
back long and smooth and cool under his hand. Spike had looked at  
him like he was insane.

"What's that, pet?"

"Just...what do you think it would be like? I mean, four  
people...where would everything go?"

Spike's hysterical laughter hadn't helped his confidence any, but  
after Spike had calmed down and climbed back onto the bed, he'd  
seemed to consider it seriously.

"All the bits go in normal places, but there's just more of 'em. An'  
with those two...bet it'd be scorching, yeah? Those two..." Spike  
had licked his lips, and Xander hadn't been able to resist licking  
them too, and that had been the last of it for the moment.

So when it finally happened, Xander couldn't say he was surprised,  
exactly, but he wasn't entirely prepared. And it certainly hadn't  
seemed like The Time. Just another Saturday afternoon, though the  
Dingoes were getting ready to go out of town for a three-week tour of  
dive bars across Southern California, and Xander had had a remarkably  
good day at work and was feeling mellow, and Spike was being sullen  
and snarky for no good reason, drinking Jack and grumbling about  
Passions. Devon was trying to pack, and failing, and Oz was trying  
to pack, and succeeding well enough for both of them.

So when Oz came over and flopped into Xander's lap in the big easy chair, after  
the last bag had been stacked by the door, Xander just ruffled his  
hair and went on reading his Rolling Stone, Oz warm and solid and  
relaxed against him.

Devon thumped down the stairs and plopped down onto the couch next to  
Spike, got an "Oi! Mind that, wanker!" and sighed. Loudly. Waited  
a minute, and did it again.

"What?" Xander finally bit.

"I can't find my green leather pants."

"Green leather? Christ. You're a fuckin' chit, you are."

"They're behind the CD tower, Dev." Oz always knew.

"Shut up, Spike. Go get my pants."

"Not a chance, mate."

"You've been sitting on your ass all day. C'mon. They're right  
upstairs."

"Sod off. Get 'em yourself."

"Use that famous vampire strength for once, and haul your lazy ass up  
the stairs. I'm tired, already."

"Devon..." Sometimes Xander felt like a den mother. Spike was in no  
mood right now, and you'd think Devon would have noticed. He  
probably had, and just didn't care. "I'll get your stupid pants, if  
you want." He stood up, ignoring Oz's "nooooooooooo...." as he was  
dumped onto the vacated chair, and moved towards the stairs.

"See what you've done, now? Xan, don't you dare fetch an' carry for  
this prima donna-"

"I am NOT a prima donna! I've just been hauling equipment all day  
and I'm fuckin' TIRED, all right?" Dev kicked Spike, a little harder  
than just play. Spike growled at him, full fangs. Devon was not  
impressed.

"Oh yeah, scary, Spike. What are you gonna do. Just because  
Xander's helpful and you're a lazy piece of shit ULG-" He went down  
under a very angry vampire, and they both hit the floor rolling.

"Guys..." Xander turned back from the stairs. "Spike, stop..."

"OUCH!" Devon's head smacked into the coffee table, and he rolled  
and punched, and "FUCK! Not the soddin' FACE, you ass-" and Oz was  
pulling at Spike and Xander was yanking Devon's arm, and they fell  
apart, glaring and panting.

"Jesus, you two. Give it a rest, already!" Oz was rarely irritated,  
but when he was, people tended to take notice. Devon shrugged, and  
even Spike managed to look faintly apologetic. "What are you, four  
years old? Apologize. Both of you." Twin mutinous frowns. Oz  
crossed his arms. Tapped his foot. Stared at them both. Xander  
almost laughed, but caught himself in time. Devon sighed, and caved.

"I'm sorry I called you a lazy piece of shit and don't think you're  
scary, Spike." He smirked.

"I'm sorry you're a princess who thinks the whole soddin' world  
revolves around-HEY!"

This time, Devon got three good hits in before Xander dragged him  
away by the collar.

"All right, this is too much." Oz was literally sitting on Spike on  
the floor, and Xander still had Devon by the collar, as a  
precautionary measure. "I don't know what the deal is, but I'm sick  
of it. Figure out a way to get along, or...or..." Xander couldn't  
think of an 'or,' but hoped the threat held. Oz nodded in  
agreement. "Kiss and make up. Now." He sounded as firm as he knew  
how, and gave Devon a little shove. "NOW, Dev."

Spike shook Oz off, and stood with his normal grace. He and Devon  
stared at each other, then the tension broke as Devon grinned.

"Sorry, Spike."

"Right, mate. No harm."

Xander stood firm.

"Shake, you two."

Spike leered. "Thought you said we had to kiss? Where's the fun in  
shakin' hands?"

Devon laughed, strolled over, and...was grabbed, pale hands in his  
hair, holding his head hard and still, cool mouth swallowing his  
gasp. Spike was sucking on his lower lip, drawing it into his mouth,  
no tongue yet but that mouth...

Xander was frozen, standing with Oz, looking...Spike had Devon's head  
held down to his own, hands cupping his head behind his neck and the  
curve of his skull, and Xander could see Dev's lashes fluttering  
against his cheek, hear the little helpless sounds he was making in  
the back of his throat, could almost FEEL it when Dev jerked as Spike  
stepped up into him and *pressed.* His hands looked lost, resting  
first on Spike's chest, then his shoulders, then one on his waist and  
one in his hair, like Devon couldn't think with that mouth on his,  
with that tongue that Xander could see, finally finally, slipping  
between his lips to slide, slick and wet, into his mouth.

The air felt heavy. He could hear Oz breathe, once, deep, next to him,  
before a hand slid across the small of his back and around onto his  
belly, just lying there flat, not moving but brurning his skin  
through his t-shirt. Oz had always been warm.

Devon's knees buckled. Xander sympathized. It was like Spike just  
moved in and took over every nerve ending in your body, sometimes.  
Devon was breathing, tasting, feeling Spike, and only Spike, and all  
that intensity could be...intense. Spike was holding him up, now,  
muscles under the black shirt bunching and sliding and not even  
straining, and Xander wondered almost idly if this is what the girls  
felt like. All that strength, so much more than your own...Poor  
Dev. Hanging in Spike's hands, all languid and beautiful and  
whimpering now, and his fingers were shaking, and all they were doing  
was kissing. Long, slow, wet kisses. Kisses with intent.

******

Devon was his but not, and Oz had always known that, and with Xander  
under his hand and this...amazing thing happening in front of him, he  
didn't even mind. They were just so fucking beautiful, those two.

Devon tall and lean and almost feminine, right now, with his full  
lips and bedroom eyes and smooth golden skin. Spike hard, pale, all  
angles and planes and sharp white edges, contrast of blue and black  
and scar and smooth. He could see Spike's hand, long-fingered but  
small, effortlessly supporting Dev's weight at the small of his  
back. Could see Dev tilt his head for a better angle at that red  
mouth, see them press together and slide, oh so slowly, down to the  
couch. Just sitting, facing each other, but bodies so close there  
was no air between them, and Devon's hands were wandering now. He  
heard him suck in air, a little, as his fingers slid under the hem of  
the t-shirt and he touched skin. Oz wondered if it was as cool and  
smooth as it looked, as Spike arched up into the touch and let his  
eyes fall closed.

Hitch of breath beside him, and he glanced up at Xander, still  
pressed against his side, his palm. Xan was staring hard, eyes  
almost black, and Oz let his hand slide down to cup a hipbone.  
Xander looked away. At him. Stared for a moment, and Oz wondered  
idly what he saw. Short pale guy with blue hair, probably, but he  
knew his eyes were very green. And when Xander bent to his mouth, he  
didn't move away.

*******

Sweet. Cool, sweet. Rasp of tongue, teeth, licking. Hand on cool  
satin, ahhhh, and a pressure against him where he was hardest, and  
his breath was stuck somewhere in his throat, and was moaning to get  
out. Curls. White and smooth, tangling his fingers, and oh, that  
tongue. Left him, gone from his mouth. Nooo! But a long swipe from  
his jawbone to that sweet hollow just below his ear and then a low  
whisper...

"It's been comin', singer, yeah?" Was someone talking to him? He  
couldn't open his eyes. "Want you, an' we all know it. I'm gonna  
have you, too. All of you. Gonna make you screammmm...." And that  
last in a wicked drawl that ran shiver-fingers up and down his spine,  
and all he could do was tilt his head, surrender.

"Open your eyes, Dev. Devon. Look at them." Spike was talking to  
him. Spike. He opened his eyes, moved in for another kiss, and had  
his head held firmly away by a hand in his hair. "Look," Spike  
whispered, and turned him.

He'd seen Xander and Oz together, yeah, but this seemed different,  
somehow. It had been a really long time. And they were so intent.  
Xander looked like he was about to eat Oz alive. He had his mouth  
all over...lips, throat, collarbone, bending down to suck at the  
hollow of his throat. That clean line of Oz's spine was clearly  
visible as he bent back, fingers tangled in dark hair, smiling  
through half-lidded eyes. Xander's hands were on Oz's hips, holding  
him still, though it didn't really look like Oz was going  
anywhere...but this was possessive. He felt Spike growl next to him,  
and barely had time to grab an arm before the vampire fucked it all  
up. Spike turned.

"Get 'em both." Devon was surprised his voice still  
worked. "Bring 'em here." Spike paused, considered, smiled.  
Touched Oz with a gentle hand, tugging him and by extension, Xander,  
back towards the couch. He didn't let go when they bumped against  
Devon's legs, but pulled them down in a slow tumble until Xander was  
looking up at Devon, and Oz was half in Spike's arms.

Devon liked Xander. Big and solid on him, soft soft skin, and he always smelled  
like raspberries. Kissing Xander now. Mmmm. Warm instead of cool,  
but still sweet...and hands pulling off his shirt, that was nice.  
Xander's too? Yeah. Better. He was still feeling that strange  
passivity, willing to lay back and just let this happen. Strange.  
Like Spike had flipped a switch in his head. He relaxed down into  
the couch...Skin on skin, and Xander across his lap, and the boy had  
the best mouth and THE best shoulders Dev had ever seen.  
Collarbone. Yeah.

*******

Spike could always sense the wolf in Oz. Could see it every day in  
the easy stretches when he got up from watching tv, or the tilt of  
his head when he was listening to something, or the look in his eye  
as he watched things go on around him. And now, he was musky with  
the smell of it.

Sure, maybe vampires had a bit of a neck fixation. It was only  
natural. But Oz really had an exceptional neck, long for a boy and  
smooth and white, and the slope of it meeting his shoulder was right  
THERE, as he wriggled around to get a better look at the couch's  
other two inhabitants. Surely he wouldn't mind...Spike let his open  
mouth just rest on that spot, felt Oz jump and then melt back against  
him.

Xander'd always said some stupid thing about Oz tasting like the  
sun. Much as he hated to admit it, Spike knew what he meant, now, as  
he let his tongue out to play, dancing on skin almost as pale as his  
own. Hot, and salty, and just a little wild, but strong and light  
just the same. Fuck. Bleedin' poetry, makin' an appearance now?  
This was gonna be the shag of all shags, no flowers and candy, ta SO  
much.

But his mouth was liking Oz's throat rather a lot, especially  
when his hands got into play, sliding under Oz's shirt and rubbing  
his flat belly, and down...yeah, and when Oz tilted his head back,  
and he finally got a taste of that wide mouth...he couldn't believe  
he was making that fuckin' ridiculous noise, just because a pretty  
little werewolf was sucking on his tongue and grinding his ass back  
into his crotch. Sweet GOD...oh, sod it. He growled, and dove in.

******

Oz had always known that Spike would taste like sin.

******

Devon was usually pushy, in a good way of course, but now he looked  
pliant and dazed. Drugged. Off in some bliss-zone, where kisses  
just came to him and there was always someone unbuttoning his pants.  
Xander had fully expected to be stripped by now and flat on his back,  
but HE was the one on top, with his fingers busy with buttons and his  
tongue tangling with Devon's. Little pauses for breath, and to hear  
Devon whisper his name in that porn-voice he used when he was hot,  
and to look at Oz and Spike, because that was just amazing. Spike's  
hand was...yeah. And Oz was...yeah.

He didn't know what to do first. Strip Devon. Right. His hips did that hot little shimmy  
thing when Xander tugged at his jeans, and there he was, naked.  
Naked Devon. Long lines and soft curves, hipbones and smooth skin  
and his head tipped back and he looked utterly debauched. Just  
waiting there. Even his feet were pretty. Xander felt overdressed,  
stood and stripped lightning fast, paused to consider his great and  
amazing good fortune, and slid back onto Dev, straddling his hips and  
AHH. Felt a cool hand in his hair, suddenly...Spike was looking at  
him over Oz's shoulder, even as his other hand kept up a slow stroke  
and push against the zipper of Oz's jeans.

He smiled. This was ok.

Grin back, and Spike bent again, because Oz was twisting and  
whimpering and trying to get him back.

********

This was going to be over so so fast if he didn't...yeah, right  
there, oh Jesus Xander those fingers...and he had to...right, sit up  
or something, GOD, and mouths weren't supposed to be that hot, were  
they? And where was Spike, oh FUCK he had his hand in Oz's pants and  
Oz's hips were doing that roll and slide that they did when he was  
really really turned on and Devon couldn't quite get his mind around  
this happening.

And Xander, Xander with that fucking talented  
mouth...on his chest now, and a hand still on his dick with a stroke  
and pull just SO, and sliding down now oh my GOD tongue in navel! He  
could feel his hips buck up, desperate for contact, and Xander was on  
his knees on the floor now and his thighs fell open helplessly and Oz  
was watching them, eyes hot, and that first long lick from root to  
tip took him right out of his head again.

********

Dark head resting on a long thigh, pink tongue lapping at a hard  
satin cock, then lips parting, sliding, surrounding. Oz used to  
watch them all the time, just because. Oz liked to watch. Thought  
he'd never get the chance again, and his eyes just locked, and he  
couldn't look away, even when strong white hands were pulling at his  
jeans, at his shirt, petting him. Devon was arched right off the  
couch, eyes closed, hands fisted at his sides, and Oz KNEW that he  
wanted to grab hair and pull and push, but didn't because that pissed  
Xander off and sometimes made him stop, and there was no way Dev was  
going to do anything to jeopardize this blow job. Xander was that  
good. Lucky, lucky Spike.

Who was teasing him now, still behind him, surrounding him with cool and strong and musky want, and  
watching just like Oz was. And he was so HARD...Oz could feel him in  
the small of his back, where skin met skin, oh Lord Spike was naked  
too. Maybe he should do more than watch, right now.

*******

Fuck. Xander was...Spike was growling, and didn't even want to  
stop. Almost jumped out of his skin when an answering growl rumbled  
through the body he was holding...oh yeah, pushy little werewolf, are  
we? Always wondered where the wolf ended and the odd little man  
started. And...SHIT! Oz whipped around--had he always been that  
strong? Lucky little bitch, that Willow--and was moving against him,  
like an animal. Spike was officially distracted. Pushed Oz off,  
just a bit, so he could get at that smooth neck and nibble a  
little...yeah, right there...slid hands down sweating-hot skin, felt  
fingers yanking in his hair, and got a noseful of wolf-smell and  
lust, and this time when the growl came, he bared his teeth.

*******

Xander glanced up through his eyelashes. Devon squirmed hard, and  
shifted, and he almost lost his rhythm...almost. Smiled around the  
hardness in his mouth, curled his tongue around it. Decided that now  
was a great time to show Dev his new trick. Relaxed his jaw, his  
throat, DIDN'T think about it, and dove down, hands steady on Devon's  
thighs, holding him still, holding him down. Felt hair tickle his  
nose, and his breath hitch and catch and stop, and swallowed. Devon  
screamed, and came.

Yeah.

******

Oh CHRIST. Fuckin' Xander and that mouth...god that was the best  
blow job he'd ever gotten...he felt the tension drag out of his back,  
his legs, looked at the grinning face between his legs, grinned  
back...and got kicked in the side. What the-

Growling. He'd...holy shit, he'd forgotten Spike and Oz. Hard to  
believe, but when your brain's getting sucked out your dick...Spike  
kicked him again. Oh...he had one hand buried between Oz's legs, and  
one wrapped around his neck, and Devon could feel himself getting  
hard again...felt Xander's hand still on his leg, felt his nerve  
endings fire, couldn't look away. They were growling. His Oz?  
Growling. Fuckin' hot. And Spike flipped them over, one smooth move  
and Oz was under him, he was settling between thighs, and those white  
hips flexed and Oz HOWLED.

Holy shit.

Their legs brushed against him on every stroke, and he could see the muscles in Spike's back  
clench and slack, clench and slack, long slow rhythmic fuck, and Oz's  
hands were clawing at him, blue nailpolish shocking against white  
skin. He looked down again. Xander was still on his knees, staring,  
catching flies. Couldn't have that. He shoved at him with his foot,  
and grinned, and Xander's eyes flared hot.

He crawled up, over Devon's legs, into his lap, reached out and  
draped himself on Spike, mouthed at his shoulder, rode the movement  
and Devon could see him shiver when Spike moaned.

*******

Stronger than Devon. Stronger than Xander. Stronger than Oz,  
inexorable sex that was pushing him out of his body with every  
thrust. Spike was biting his own lip, and Oz couldn't look away, had  
to lock on to something or get lost. And then...a hot hand, reaching  
around Spike, brown-black eyes staring over white shoulder, and that  
hand slid up his cock, fingers circled the tip, and rubbed DOWN, and  
Oz arched and he could feel his mouth open, silent, and then Devon  
was kissing him, sweep of slick tongue, fucking his mouth. Every.  
Stroke. Too much. Too many. Oz bucked, and came, and didn't  
remember whose name he screamed.

*****

Xander felt Spike shudder, heard that eerily high moan he made when  
he was coming, and caught him when he fell back, off of Oz, sliding  
out and away and letting Devon kiss from his place on the floor. Ran  
his hands down Spike's arms to still the trembling, twined his  
fingers, nibbled at the back of his neck. Spike was sweet, after  
sex. Quiet for a little while, and almost tender, and he loved this  
part. But Spike's legs were tangled with his, and still with Oz's as  
he lay back, spent, and there was almost no room on this damn couch  
any more, and the air smelled like sex.

Xander was still hard. VERY hard. This seemed unfair, really. Everyone ELSE had gotten off. It  
was like some extremely hot buffet...his choice of partner. Sexy  
vampire? Sexy werewolf? Sexy singer? Xander snickered, almost  
shocking in the silence.

"What, pet?"

"Oh, just thinking. Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Are they going to keep making out forever?"

"Dunno. Can think of worse things."

"Well, yeah. You just, and I quote, got your end away."

"Yeah?"

He rubbed a little against the cool body in his arms.

"Spiiiiiiike..."

"Don't whine, luv. S'not becoming."

"Come on...it's not fair!"

"Should've got off when you had the chance."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a bastard. And you're hard again too."

"What to do, what to do..."

"Oh, knock it off. Who do you want?"

"You." With no hesitation, promptly. Xander loved Spike.

"Aw. You get me all the time, though. Look at Devon. Isn't he  
pretty?"

"Yeah, I s'pose."

"Yeah, right. Go fuck him, or you two are going to kill each other  
one of these days."

"Will not!" But the tension was back, and Spike was looking.

"Go on. Before he sucks Oz's brains out that way. Jesus."

"Almost hate to interrupt 'em..." Spike was off the couch a heatbeat  
later, knocking Devon away from Oz and flat onto the floor, and  
WHOA. Looked like Oz wasn't the only one in danger of losing his  
brain.

******

What the-

On the FLOOR?

Oh, HELLS yes. Spike's tongue in his mouth again, and there was a  
faint tang of Oz there, but mostly just Spike. Devon melted. Just  
opened himself right up. Maybe it was a weird vampire mind trick.  
Devon couldn't feel his bones, but his hands seemed to have a pretty  
decent idea what to do, and were restless on Spike's back. He felt  
long legs pressing against his own, hands pulling at his arms,  
pushing them flat, drawing them up above his head. Spike's fingers,  
still slick from Oz, in among his own. He had a Spike-blanket, head  
to toe. Well, almost. Cool. And...AH...hot. Especially when he  
moved just. like. THAT.

Black lashes were almost hiding those damn blue eyes, and he couldn't  
stop staring. Spike was doing that intense thing again. Not QUITE  
angry. He bucked his hips, not really fighting, just testing, locked  
eyes, smirked. I'm bigger than you. He tensed and rolled, and now  
Spike had a Devon-blanket. He bared his teeth, bit Spike's lip,  
heard the yelp, and then it all went to hell.

******

"Do you think they'll hurt each other?" Faint trace of worry, from  
where Xander had slid up to lie behind Oz, touching him all up and  
down his body. He was still hard, but too distracted to do much  
about it.

"Nah. Spike likes him." Oz sounded calm enough for both of them.

"I know he does. You know he does. But does DEV know he does?"

"Huh. Dunno." They were watching. Comfortable. He had his arm  
around Oz, lovely soft skin under his hands, and he could feel it  
every time Oz took a breath. Lovely Oz. Maybe...if he moved just a  
little...Xander cupped a thigh and lifted, let his cock slide in  
between Oz's legs, moaned, felt Oz give a full-body shiver. Oh  
yeah. Hopefully, Dev and Spike wouldn't break any of the furniture.

******

Fuckin', soddin', bleedin' CHIP. He was having to be SO careful  
here, and the little...GodDAMN it! Un-fuckin'-FAIR, is what it was!  
And the stupid singer wouldn't hold still an' take it like a man, oh  
no, he had to go about provin' his manhood or some such rot.  
Slippery as a snake, he was.

Spike finally got him flipped and pinned--years of bein' the Big Bad  
had to have SOME worth, yeah?--and panting into the rug.

"Hold. Soddin'. STILL." Spike snarled through bleeding lips, spat  
into one hand, the other holding Devon's wrists above his head.  
Reached down, and...RIGHT there. Hot as sin, and tight as a virgin,  
and Devon pushed back onto his finger, whimpering, all the fight gone  
out of him. This was gonna be a proper shag an' no mistake.

Two fingers now, and Dev was up on his knees, head still against the  
carpet, braced on his forearms. All that lovely skin...Spike  
couldn't help it, had to have a taste, licked at the sweat that was  
running down the channel of that long curve of spine. Dev gasped,  
and rolled his hips, a lovely liquid thing that would have the  
groupies swooning if he did it on stage. Two fingers deep and  
crooked, and Devon sucked in air again, and made fists of his hands.

"Devon...pet...easy..." Spike slicked himself. Couldn't wait  
another second. Spread Devon's thighs with his own, settled in, and  
pushed. SO tight. God. In just a bit, hearing the whine of a  
little pain in the quick breathing, and out, and in again, a little  
further...aiming for the sweet spot. The tiny part of his brain  
still functioning reminded him to take it slow. He slid his hands  
down sweaty sides, down to sharp hipbones, rubbed slow circles there  
with his thumbs. Waited for Devon to unfreeze, muscle by muscle, and  
push back, again. Started breathing himself when it happened,  
because FUCK. And then he was in to the hilt, and burning.

******

Too much. There was NO WAY that was getting in him...how the FUCK  
did Xander do this? OUCH. And...WOW. Little sparks from that good  
place, he remembered this from the fingers, this was good. He could  
smell the shampoo on the newly-clean carpet, felt himself sweating,  
felt cool hands on his hips, felt...FULL. Spike moved. WOW again.  
He was moving too, couldn't help it, wanted more, moremoremore,  
faster, please, Spike. Did he say that out loud? Couldn't hear,  
through the pounding of blood in his ears and the sound of the breath  
in his throat, but Spike maybe heard him, because he speeded up.

Every thrust into him lifted him up, onto his arms, hit him right  
where he needed it, HAD to have it, because this was making his brain  
melt, making his fingers tingle, he could feel the burn in the base  
of his spine and the tension in the back of his legs, and he didn't  
want to come, didn't want it to be over, but that hand slid off his  
hip and onto his cock. Sure strokes, in time with the fucking, and  
oh JESUS his blood was on fire, his whole BODY was on fire, every  
nerve ending jumping, and his eyes were clenched shut and he could  
see colors. Hot silver slide through his thighs, his back, down his  
spine, and he was coming, coming, and Spike was right, he was  
screaming.

Spike was still moving, still pushing into him, still had a hand on  
his cock, and it was almost too much, overload. He was thrashing  
now, totally out of control, and it was so intense it HURT, and there  
was a mouth on him, teeth nipping at his shoulder, and Spike  
stiffened behind him, grabbed his hips hard, and sighed his name.  
Fell down onto him, heavier than he looked, and Devon just rested.

*****

"I think they passed out."

"Yeah. Maybe. Don't stop."

Xander nodded, slid into Oz, slow and comfortable, like coming home.  
Oh god, he'd almost forgotten how amazing this was. Welcoming heat  
holding him, pulling him in. Hot skin against his own, sliding with  
sweat, in a familiar rhythm, calm green eyes with little sun-crinkles  
at the corners, smiling at him, closing in a long blink when he  
speeded up, just a bit. Oz. He kissed him, fisted his dick, stroked  
him and petted him. Oz.

******

Xander wasn't as strong and sleek as Devon or as hard and feral as  
Spike, but he fucked with a sweetness that they didn't have. Oz had  
missed this. He reached up, tangled his fingers in dark curls,  
wrapped his legs around Xander's waist, and sighed. Sweet. The  
buildup was slower this time. Slow uncurl of warmth in his belly,  
little kisses on his face, his neck, his chest. Lap of tongue on his  
nipples, sending hot shivers through him. Xander inside him, doing  
lovely things to his prostate, glide out and a harder push in,  
screwing his hips a little. And a hand on him, stroking him just how  
he liked, and Oz made a small surprised sound when he came, and  
Xander laughed as he came right behind him.

*****

"Singer?" Raspy whisper in his ear.

"Whu?" He could barely move his lips.

"You alive?"

"Yeh. Mbey."

"Right." Spike didn't move.

"Spike?"

"Shuddup."

"Kay."

*****

And it wasn't awkward at all, when they finally all untangled, just  
to collapse again in a pile on the couch. Xander couldn't tell whose  
hip his head was on, but he thought that was Spike's cool leg between  
his thighs. Someone was petting his hair. Nice. For about five  
minutes. And then there was a push, and a shove back.

"Spike..." He put his best warning tone on. Didn't want to open his  
eyes.

"Wasn't me, pet. This lanky arsehole HAD to stretch his legs out..."

"I did NOT! He's tiny! He could move over just a LITTLE."

"'M not tiny. OZ is tiny."

Xander felt a sigh. Probably Oz.

"You're almost as tiny as he is. Hey, if you went upstairs and got  
my pants, we wouldn't HAVE this problem."

"Oh are you on about THAT again? Fuck, not a moment's peace-"

Xander sighed. Burrowed into what he thought was probably Oz. And  
smiled.

[THE END]


End file.
